Natural Selection
by the morrighan
Summary: A new defense against the Wraith is found...with consequences.
1. Chapter 1

Natural Selection

White.

The cast had once been almost painfully white, pristine as it had encased Moira O'Meara's wounded foot. Now it was covered with various scrawls, signatures of friends. She held the two pieces of the cast in her hands, turning it over, smiling as she read the various messages. The inevitable "get well" from Aaron Josephes. The comical "don't break a leg" from Evan Lorne, with a cartoon drawing of a sabertooth cat. The simple yet elegant signature of Katie Brown. The long, almost illegible scrawl reading "to my favorite paleozoologist" from John Sheppard.

She recalled his serious expression as he had signed it. Brows furrowed in concentration, tongue flicking across his lips as he tried to make the word paleozoologist fit across the bumpy, short surface of her foot. His smile when he had finished. His brilliant green eyes meeting hers.

Moira set the pieces aside, flexed her foot in its softer, yet more awkward orthopedic shoe. She

grabbed her data pad, changed her mind, set it on the bed. Headed out of her room.

The cafeteria was full. Scientists and soldiers enjoyed their meals, clustered in somewhat segregated groups. Moira moved among them, searching tables, searching faces. Her impatient expression and increasingly unsteady gait drew Carson Beckett's attention.

The doctor stood, deliberately blocking her progress. "Moira, is there something wrong?"

"Wrong? No, no...I was just looking for Evan. Is he back from his mission yet?"

"I don't think so. The last team I cleared from an off-world mission was Colonel Sheppard's, and that was two hours ago. Is there something I can help you with, love?" he inquired with a smile, his Scottish lilt inviting confidences.

She smiled. "No, Carson. I just came across some interesting details in the data I've been studying. Thank you." She hesitated, debated. "Do you know where I might find Colonel Sheppard?" She glanced at the table where Carson's sandwich awaited his return.

Carson smiled. "My best guess is the conference room. Or the Jumper bay. Or his quarters. You could always have him paged over the–"

"No! No, no, I will wait for Evan," Moira retreated. "If I don't see him on my travels...um, enjoy your lunch."

Moira paused at the open doorway to the conference room. It was empty. The Jumper bay swarmed with technicians but no errant colonel. Running out of options she hastened down yet another set of hallways. Her foot began to ache with the unexpected exertion. Although severely damaged by a sub-wraith Carson had managed to repair it, restoring tissue and muscle that had been savagely rent by vicious claws.

Coming to a stop outside a door she hesitated. Chewed her lower lip, debating. She rapped her knuckles on the door loudly. "Colonel Sheppard? John, it's Moira. I found something."

"Moira O'Meara," John's voice called from the other side of the door, sounding pleased. Inviting.

Hearing his voice, his tone she waved her hand over the access panel. The door opened silently. She limped into the room heedlessly, already talking. "John, I came across an interesting entry in the records from Miocene Park and I think they could be be be be..." she stuttered, froze. Embarrassed and enamored all at once.

John stood near the neatly made bed, wearing only a pair of gray running pants. Filtered blue light from the windows played over his dark, messy hair. His broad shoulders. His finely sculpted, lean torso. Tiny drops glistened in the hair on his chest, either from water or sweat. His muscles arms flexed as he rubbed his hands together. "Be be be be what?" he teased, not oblivious to her reaction but distracted by her appearance.

Moira was staring, nearly gawking, rosy lips parted, brown eyes widening. A green t-shirt with Celtic designs printed above her breasts hugged her form. Her tan slacks nicely enfolded her curves. The ubiquitous ponytail of brown hair trailed behind her. A tan orthopedic shoe had replaced the cast, but was in stark contrast to her other dark brown shoe.

She moved her mouth, but no words came. She threw her gaze across his room, at the almost Spartan bed, the row of books on a shelf, the poster of Johnny Cash on the wall. The unexpected sight of a guitar propped in the corner. She pivoted, winced as her foot protested the sudden motion. "I, I, I'm sorry, John! I shouldn't have rushed in like that, like this, I'll go, I'll leave you to to to..." she stammered, lurching towards the door. Her foot refused to make the quick step.

John smiled, but caught her in the doorway before she fell through the opening. "Moira, wait. It must be important for you to barge in on me." As she turned awkwardly her breasts brushed across his bare arm. He released her elbows, only to slide his grasp around her waist and pull her close, out of the doorway. She touched his shoulders, fingers skimming down to his biceps, staring down as she righted herself. She placed her stubborn foot flat on the ground next to the other one.

"Thank you. I...I was looking for Evan, actually."

"Evan?" His grasp seemed to stiffen. "In my room?"

"No, he's still on a mission," she answered, still staring at her foot, but her eyes could not help but wander along the gray pants. The loose material encasing long legs. Her gaze darted up to his waist quickly, then back to her foot.

"And you thought that mission might be in my room?" he teased, amused at her wandering yet trying not to wander gaze. Even as his did the same, across the Celtic knots on the t-shirt which only seemed to highlight the swells of her breasts. The feel of her soft touch. The feel of her waist beneath his hands, which slipped slightly towards her hips.

She met his gaze, her eyes traveling up to his face slowly. "No!" she snapped. She smiled. Grasped his hands at her hips, freed herself and stepped to the center of the room, her back to him now. "I found something interesting, well, intriguing actually and it could warrant a possible mission."

John was surprised at the suddenness of her escape. Disappointed. He silently chided himself for not kissing her when he had her so close, so vulnerable. The searing kiss she had given him on their last mission asserted itself into his mind. He waved a hand over the console, closing the door, even as he stared at the fall of her bound hair down her back. The tan slacks snugly hugging her shapely rear. It took a moment for him to notice her awkward stance, turning her foot this way and that. He stepped to her, took her elbow, guided her to the bed. "Sit."

She glanced at the empty chair near the bed. A black t-shirt was slung across the back of it. "I can always come back later, after you–"

"Get dressed? No. Talk," he said simply. Waited. He sat in the wheeled chair, rolled it closer to the bed. Grabbed the t-shirt from behind him and held it.

She sat on the edge of the bed. "M1K439."

He waited. Considered. "Could you be more explicit?"

"Would you like me to be?" she teased. At his slow smile she eyed her sore foot. Moved it slowly. "M1K439. The waterfall planet."

"Yes?"

"You led your team there, a while back. What do you remember about it?"

"Waterfalls. Lots and lots of waterfalls," he quipped.

She sighed, met his merry gaze. "Nothing else?"

"No." He stood, pulled the t-shirt over his head. "Why?" he asked in the confines of the material. "What is this sudden interest in M1K439?"

Moira watched his torso, his chest, the muscles flexing as he raised his arms to pull on the t-shirt. As it obscured his handsome face, then slid down, draping his form to his pants. "I found several references to it in the data Thomas downloaded for me. From M1M369."

"Thomas? Ah...Kavanaugh," he recalled, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes," she said, trying to ignore his flirtatious behavior. Failing. "There are several references to the planet M1K439. _Natura nonfacit saltum. _Over and over." At his puzzled gaze she smiled almost smugly, translated, "Nature does not make a leap. And another phrase. _Novus vita._ New life."

"I see. And based on these obscure Latin references you infer some significance?"

"I don't know," she admitted. Stood. "But it must be important. It is repeated over and over in the database from Miocene Park, about M1K439. It could be about the prehistoric seeding, the sub-wraith, anything! John," she touched his arm, "what if the Ancients seeded another planet with megafauna? Can you imagine if we had two such worlds to study, not just one?" she exclaimed, brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"Miocene Park?" he asked, her excitement contagious. He tried to ignore it.

"Yes, M1M369. That's what Evan named it, after the incredible megafauna we discovered there. Although to be fair the animals came from all different epochs. The Eocene. The Oligocene. Even the more recent Pliocene which begs the question if they took life from closer to our own–"

"Evan again," John muttered, cutting off her rising exposition.

Moira withdrew her hand, limped to the door. Her enthusiasm quashed by his seeming indifference. Almost mockery. "Fine. I didn't mean to bore you, colonel. I have the data files if you need to see them," she said, opening the door with a wave of her hand, "but this alone would have been enough for Evan to present a possible mission prospect to Doctor Weir."

John moved quickly to intercept her, waved the door closed before she could escape. Stuck his arm out to block her exit, palm against the wall. "I will need to see those files, Moira, to determine if there is a reason to lead a mission in the first place."

"Evan can lead our team on this," she argued. "I figured you would need more convincing. That's why I wanted to talk to Evan, not you. He is more willing to accept my conclusions and hunches."

"I'll just bet he is," John sourly noted, gaze narrowing.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, angry at the insinuation. Glaring at him.

"Oh, I think you know," he countered. Their gazes held, held, until she sighed.

"Don't be ridiculous! If you let me go I will assemble the data files for your inspection, Colonel Sheppard."

"Back to that, are we? I can't just authorize a mission to an unknown planet based on the

invalidated suspicions of a biologist, oh, excuse me, a paleozoologist. Especially when you haven't even clarified those suspicions or made any convincing conclusions. Besides," he continued, overriding her beginning protest as an odd jealousy made him angry, "any mission suggestions or requests made by Major Lorne must be approved by me as well as by Doctor Weir. I don't care how much blarney you use to captivate him. He is not going anywhere without my express orders. We are not running a willy-nilly exploration service."

"Willy-nilly?" she asked, not certain whether to be amused or angered. "I see. In that case, Colonel, oh, excuse me, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, I will assemble the data and whatever conclusions I can construe to your complete satisfaction."

"My complete satisfaction?" he repeated, a sensual undertone to his voice. "I expect nothing less, Doctor O'Meara. And if you could do it in English? That would be very helpful," he acerbically commented. "No Latin. No long scientific expositions."

She frowned. "Oh, don't you worry, colonel. I will be certain to make it as simplistic as possible, so even you can understand it. Without a trace of blarney to confuse that pretty head of yours."

She pushed his arm aside, waved the door open and finally made her exit.

"Good!" he called after her, stepping out of the room to watch her limp quickly. "I wouldn't want my pretty head to be confused by your zoological verbosity!" He looked over as Ronon Dex paused, stared at him. "What?" he snapped. "She started it," he muttered, closing his door and striding down the hallway, shaking his head.

***********************************************************************

Elizabeth Weir strolled into the 'Gateroom. A team emerged from the shimmering vortex. As the wormhole dissipated she frowned. Two of the marines were carrying a woman between them. She was unconscious, clad in heavy, dirty garments. Blood stains were prevalent. "Major Lorne? I distinctly recall sending a team of four. Who is this?"

Evan frowned, glancing at the woman. "She needs medical attention. She's been beaten..almost literally stoned to death, Doctor Weir."

"Stoned to death?" Elizabeth repeated, shocked. She tapped her earpiece. "Carson, I need you to the 'Gateroom. STAT! Major, what happened on P12X47?"

"It's a very primitive, backward world," Thomas Kavanaugh, explained, shaking his head in obvious disgust. "No technology, not even the rudiments of a civilized society." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "Another useless mission to a useless world."

"I'm afraid he's right, ma'am," Evan agreed. "The people are living in extremely crude villages...I even hesitate to describe them as villages. There's no evidence of any rudimentary agriculture. They live off the land. Hunter-gatherers. They had only very basic language skills and knew nothing about the Stargate."

"And they don't like visitors," Aaron Josephes added. The young lieutenant was shaking his head, staring at the wounded woman. "Or anyone different. Or anyone at all, apparently, not even..." His voice trailed into silence.

"There was no reason to go to that planet," Thomas stated. "Certainly no reason for me to go. For anyone! There was nothing of interest or of value."

"Good heavens!" Carson exclaimed upon seeing his patient. "Gurney, here!" As they set the woman upon it he checked her vitals, muttering to himself. "She's got a strong pulse...minor injuries but so many! Bruises...lacerations but nothing life-threatening. I'll need to do a complete scan for any internal injuries." He shook his head. "Whatever happened?"

"We came across her. Tied to a stake in the center of a...gathering. They were throwing stones at her. We had to intervene," Evan explained. "I've never seen anything like it. A scene right out of the Dark Ages."

"Out of several ages, unfortunately," Elizabeth corrected. She watched the woman being wheeled to the infirmary, looked back at Evan. "Did they even try to explain their actions? However horrible it must have been perhaps she broke some law, some tribal taboo?"

"No, ma'am. They didn't want to talk, and when they did it was very brusque. Hard to understand." He shrugged. "They let us take her without a fight, although there was a lot of yelling and waving of sticks. Some kind of ceremony. The head...priest, I guess, called her a _cursor luctuosus. Cursor luctuosus apage te!_ he kept shouting. I know that's Latin, but I have no idea what it means."

"All right. We'll go over this in half an hour. Have your men stand down. Doctor Kavanaugh, do you have anything to report?"

Thomas sighed. "No, Doctor Weir. As I have been saying, there was absolutely nothing of interest on that planet. No technology. No viable resources. Not a sign of any Ancient structures except for the Stargate and the DHD. And those were covered with cobwebs! I wonder why the Ancients bothered to put a Stargate there at all."

***********************************************************************

Moira sat at her desk in the biology laboratory, combing through the retrieved data. Her anger vied with amusement, seeing his arguments were reasonable as well as infuriating. Her mind lingered on the sight of him, half-clothed. The teasing. The flirtatious banter. The searing kiss she had given him on M1M396, and longed to repeat, but so far he had not reciprocated. Collecting her data on a flash drive she headed out of the lab.

Once again Moira found herself in the cafeteria. Laptop in hand she perused the tables, smiled, slid across from her team leader. "Evan. How did it go? Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing to interest you. Except the hunter-gatherers. We rescued a damsel in distress, though. Tied to a stake, but there was no dragon, so don't get your hopes up. Oh oh...I know that look, O'Meara. What is it?" he asked, pausing to lower his sandwich.

She smiled, opened the laptop. "I've discovered some interesting notes in the downloaded data from Miocene Park. You see on the far right, alongside the codes and data concerning the planet there is a series of Stargate symbols. Addresses...well, one address, really." She turned the screen towards him.

"Yes...here. And here. The same one?"

"Yes. The address is for M1K439. The waterfall planet. And by every designation are two Latin addendums–nature does not leap, and new life. Evan, somehow these two planets are connected. The repeating references and notations could be significant."

"More Latin," he grumbled, sighed. "Significant how?"

"I don't know. Yet. But we could find out. I checked on M1K439. There were no significant findings. But the exploratory team was not there too long, just a quick check of the planet to see if it was habitable. I think we should investigate it. Who knows what we could find. Another Miocene Park, perhaps?"

"I see." He studied the laptop, then closed it. "This is rather slim evidence for a mission parameter," he cautioned. Lifting his sandwich again.

She sighed. "I know. Colonel Sheppard said the same thing, but he hasn't seen the data yet. Besides, we have a better chance of exploring this than his team."

"True...all right." He lowered his sandwich. "I'm not promising anything. Let me take a copy of this to Doctor Weir and see if she is interested."

"Already done." She handed him the flash drive. "Everything is there. Thank you, Evan. I knew you'd be more intrigued. Why don't you eat your sandwich? It's getting cold."

He smirked. "Yeah, I noticed. Thanks. Stop talking now."

She laughed. "Start eating."

************************************************************************

John sat in the conference room, staring at the information scrolling across the data pad. He had called up the files on M1K439. The report was brief. There had been no contacts, no signs of human life or Ancient technology. Just a vast chain of canyons and waterfalls. He recalled them, the sheer beauty of the planet. Pictured Moira among them. Soaking wet, the t-shirt clinging to her, the pants glued along her body. Long hair loose and straggling, dripping with water like it had been on their first mission. The feel of her in his arms. That searing kiss she had given him and he had yet to reciprocate. Waiting and waiting for her foot to heal, for the cast to be removed. Finding the right time, the right place, without anyone interfering.

He tapped his earpiece. "Sargent, has Major Lorne's team returned?"

"Yes, sir. Five minutes ago. Briefing in thirty."

"Thank you." John frowned, debating. Drumming his fingers on the table. He closed the data pad, stood. Resolutely strode out of the room.

**************************************************************************

Moira worked steadily in the biology lab, assorting through more data, combing through every file to bolster her argument, Evan's argument to Doctor Weir. The lab's intercom crackled to life with a loud voice. "Doctor O'Meara to the Jumper bay."

She smiled. She closed the laptop, and hastily assembled her gear. She all but ran to the Jumper bay, looked round expectantly. Paused. It appeared deserted. "Evan? Evan, I knew you could do it! You wouldn't believe the trouble I had trying to convince Colonel Sheppard about the importance of this mission! I swear that man is almost blind when it comes to science! I don't know how Doctor McKay puts up with him." Hearing a noise, as if someone had dropped a tool she headed for an open Jumper. "You have no idea how stubborn he is...oh, I suppose you do, come to think of it, from what you've told me. Evan? Where is the rest of the team? I suppose we don't need Thomas."

"I'm not Evan, and it is just us," called a voice from the vehicle. "Oh, and by the way," John continued, walking into view and down the ramp, "what exactly has Lorne told you about my stubbornness? And just how stubborn do you think I am?" he asked, meeting her chagrined

expression.

"John? I..." She laughed, reaching the ship. "Sorry."

"That's better." He smiled. "Get in. We don't need a whole team for a quick recon of that planet. We'll take a spin around, see what's there and then decide how to proceed." At her surprised stare he beckoned her with one hand. "Well? Are you going to stand there all day? It was your idea, remember? You can be so blind when it comes to travel. Come on! _Tempus fugit. _Time flies," he translated with a grin.

She laughed. "I know what that means, colonel," she teased, followed him into the ship. "I'm just surprised you do."

He closed the hatch, turning to watch her move to the co-pilot's seat. "You'll find I'm full of surprises," he retorted.

"You're certainly full of something," she remarked, causing him to laugh. She dropped her pack onto the floor. "Thank you. Did Evan tell you–"

"No. I somehow managed to make this decision all on my own," he said sarcastically. "Strap in," he advised as he slid smoothly into the pilot's seat.

"Really? Does that pretty head of yours hurt from all that thinking?" she mocked. Her met her gaze, scowled, but smiled as she did. They laughed. "What made you change your mind? And why, like this?" She gestured around the ship.

He tapped his earpiece. "Jumper One, to control. I have a go. Clear the vicinity. Dialing the 'Gate." John's hands moved over the controls. Lifting, then lowering the ship as it hummed to life. He maneuvered into the 'Gateroom while simultaneously dialing the address. The chevrons lit blue one by one. "This way we can cover much more ground more efficiently. And save your foot any unnecessary walking." He watched the KAWOOSH, steered the ship towards the shimmering wormhole.

His practicality vied with his concern and consideration. She touched his arm, drew her hand away as he met her gaze. "Thank you." She turned her head as they entered the wormhole, emerged onto the other side. "Wow."

He smiled. "That was my initial reaction."

*********************************************************************

Elizabeth hurried into the medical bay, Ronon on her heels. She passed the several empty beds, stopped at the one occupied by the stranger. The woman was still unconscious. Her pale face was slack, marred by several tiny cuts. Short blond hair was plastered to her head.

"Elizabeth? I was just about to page you," Carson met her. Glad in surgical garb he had a serious expression on his face.

"Carson. I translated the words. What the villagers were calling her. _Cursor luctuousus. _Calamitous runner. She's a–"

"I know. That's why I was about to page for you. Rodney detected a flicker of an energy signature on her. Upon scanning I found the source. A tracking device. Like yours, Ronon."

Ronon frowned, eyed the woman. "She's a runner?" He stared hard at the woman, startled by the revelation..

"She was," Rodney corrected, stepping to them. He tapped his data pad. "The tracking device is slightly different from yours. Its emitting a very low pulse. Especially sensitive to Ancient technology." He paused, looked at the woman. "I don't believe it."

"Neither do I. I have never encountered a woman runner," Ronon commented. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, agitated.

"At least we know why the villagers were attacking her," Elizabeth explained. "She must have brought the Wraith to their own doorstep."

"No, no, I didn't mean that! I meant I can't believe we have a hot alien chick in residence and for once Sheppard is off-world," Rodney clarified, sincere. He smiled, but shrugged seeing Elizabeth's disapproving mien. "I'm just saying..." His words trailed into silence.

"I'm going to remove the device. We can save her from a life of hardship and hatred," Carson decided.

"And get a much better look at that device," Rodney agreed.

"Do it. Keep me informed," Elizabeth ordered. Turned. "Ronon, I want you to be here when she wakes up. Out of all of us you have the best understanding of what she's been through."

"Okay." Ronon leaned against a wall. Waited.

"Right. Team to Surgery One. Rodney, you should have that device in thirty minutes."

"Right. Waiting too," Rodney quipped, moving aside as Carson wheeled the bed to the more sterile surgical area.

************************************************************************

Jumper One zoomed out of the event horizon of the Stargate. The 'Gate stood on a precarious cliff. The ground sloped down, then ran flat for several yards until it abruptly dropped. A deep series of canyons were gouged into the rock faces, lush with vegetation. Flowering plants gave vivid colors to the greenery. Pinks. Blues. Reds. Yellows. Waterfalls streamed from several orifices, at different heights. The crescendo of water could almost be heard in the vehicle. Sunlight sparkled violently off the rushing waters.

John flew slowly over the cliff face, then descended several feet. "Those canyons seem to be endless. Covering a good third of the landmass." He brought up the schematics on the HUD. "Some life readings, but nothing comparable to the scale of Pleistocene Park."

She smiled at his own assertion of the planet's name. "It's beautiful."

He flew parallel to one of the canyons, following its twists and turns. "We were going to choose this as an Alpha site, but the terrain is too broken for any prolonged habitation. And we discovered no sign of any settlements. Human or Ancient."

"So no Wraith cullings," she mused. "But the Ancients were here once. The Stargate."

"Yes...whoa." At the corner John veered up, stopped sharply. A massive waterfall blocked their way. The shining curtain of water was a silver blind.

"Whoa," she agreed. "That cave entrance must be fifteen feet across!"

"Twenty point two," John corrected, eying a new set of schematics. "Just wide enough."

"What?" She glanced at him. "You're not seriously considering flying into that waterfall?"

"Anyone else would be crazy to follow us," he countered with a grin. He adjusted the ship's trajectory, flew in at an angle.

Moira smiled as the ship flew into the water. It pattered noisily on the vehicle. The Jumper entered the enormous cave. She gasped, straining forward in her seat as the ship's lights gleamed off crystalline rock formations. "Incredible! Those look like rock crystal–"

"Quartz crystals. And lime deposits. Unusual to be this high from the ground, but hey, alien planet."

"There! The opening!" she needlessly pointed. "It's huge!"

"Yeah, I noticed," he quipped.

She met his gaze, playfully hit his arm. "I just wanted to be sure."

The ship flew smoothly out of the cavern.

"Whoa!" they said at the same time.

The sheer drop past the waterfall revealed yet another canyon. More waterfalls emerged along the rocks, creating patterns of rainbows on the humid air. Mists were rising all around them, making it impossible to see the bottom of the canyon. Impossible to see above them to the higher cliffs. Only glimpses of the blue sky were discernable.

"Down we go." John piloted the Jumper in a descent.

"I wonder who far down those rock formations are," she mused.

"Let's find out. Initializing shielding."

"Wait! Into the water?" she asked, startled. "Under the water?" An emerald pool glimmered in view below them. Grew large. Larger as they neared it.

He laughed. "Yes, Moira. The shielding will hold. Trust me."

The Jumper dropped into the water. A slight bump as the shields took the impact, then the pressure of the slow submergence. Water enveloped them in emerald light.

"It's incredible!" she marveled.

"I know," he agreed proudly. "I always suspected these babies could handle the stress of underwater pressure. Since they can withstand the forces of space travel, not to mention the wormhole travel. We can even extend the shield beyond the Jumper itself if we needed to do so. Zelenka wired every one of the Jumpers with the additional hardware."

"No, not that," she corrected. "Those crystalline formations! They go all the way to the pool's floor. Extraordinary! It's like an underwater cathedral made of glass."

"Oh," said John, disappointed.

Through the emerald green water's clarity the quartz formations glinted like jewels. Schools of fish glimmered brightly. A huge fish swam in front of the viewport. Moira gasped, sat back as one big yellow eye the size of her head blinked at her. John grinned. The fish swam into the distance, uninterested.

"It's...it's almost like a submerged city," she stated, grabbing her camcorder and filming. She nearly pressed the lens to the viewport.

John checked the scanners. "If it was it was purely organic. No energy readings, no technology, Ancient, Wraith, or otherwise. I suppose this could be the nature makes no leap designation, but it is natural."

She lowered the camcorder. "I would think that would be a reference to a life form, not this. Those fish are not new life...at least not unusual life. Or artificial."

John began to raise the ship. "Let's see what's beyond this canyon." As the Jumper emerged a great rush of water exploded, pouring off the ship. "Deactivating shields," he noted. Checked the readings. "I'm detecting a clearing not far from here. Over that ridge."

"I almost hate to leave this place," she softly remarked, watching the rippling wake left by the ship's exit. The waters scattered, spread, as the surface calmed once more. The pool shrank beneath them as the Jumper flew higher, higher.

The ship crested the ridge. A level plain of land ran for several miles. Lush with green vines and ferns, dotted with thickly grown trees. Heavy foliage swayed in the breezes. Tiny ponds sparkled like fallen diamonds. John found a suitable spot, lowered the ship to a smooth landing. "I suppose you'll want to get samples," he suggested.

She smiled, moving out of her seat. "Yes. You must have read my mind."

He followed her out of the Jumper as she opened the hatch. She stepped gingerly onto the ground. Proceeded to the next cliff's edge. It dropped sharply to yet another ravine. The waterfalls were loud, crashing torrents of powerful waves. The sky was a purplish hue, tinged with gold.

Moira wandered among the riot of vegetation. Finding a comparatively dry spot she knelt, touched the spongy mosses and lavish ferns. "You should have brought Doctor Parrish, or Doctor Brown. I'm no botanist but these forms are incredible. I don't think they are megaflora by any means but the rate of growth here must be spectacular."

"Maybe next time. That's not really what I had in mind," he said, watching her. A strong warm breeze blew, sending strands of her ponytail in all directions. He found a comfortable spot, settled and relaxed. The P90 within easy reach. "Moira."

"Look at this, John!" She had moved to another shaded area. The trees towered above her. Their trunks were wrapped in heavy vines, studded with yellow and white flowers. "Flowering plants means insects. I hope there aren't any Iratus bugs here," she teased.

"Hilarious, Moira," he replied, gaze following her every move.

"Can you smell that? The floral pheromones are almost overwhelming!" She sniffed the rush of sweetly fragrant flowers as the wind blew. She moved back into the sunlight, stepping over a small pool. "There's a tiny frog here. So we have amphibians now."

"Sounds like we're moving up the evolutionary scale," he commented. "Moira, come here." He waited, becoming impatient.

She knelt. "John, look! Oh, you won't believe this!" She leaned forward, giving John an enticing view of her rear before she stood, turned. She stepped to him, sat near him. "Look!" She held out a plump, red fruit. "A strawberry!" She sniffed. "A real strawberry." She coyly ran her tongue across it, took a bite.

"Moira? I hope that isn't one of the inhabitants of this planet you're nibbling," he jested, attracted by the glimpse of her tongue, the tilt of her head. The motion of her lips on the fruit.

She almost laughed, squirting juice from the bite. "Hilarious, John! Delicious." She licked her lips. "Exactly like a strawberry," she assured, her lips red from the fruit. She met his warm gaze, playfully asked, "Do you want a taste, colonel?

"I thought you'd never ask, doctor," he replied with a winning smile. He leaned close and brushed his lips across hers, tongue teasingly seeking entrance. "I've been waiting weeks to take a taste," he teased.

"What took you so long?" she challenged softly.

His mouth took hold of hers, exploring, probing as his tongue sought entrance. Sought to guide her soft, yielding lips open. His hand ran up her thigh, her waist, her side to gently grasp a breast. To run his thumb across it, feeling the bra, the nipple reacting to his touch. He moved her onto her back against the ground, mouth still locked with hers. Her hand slid up his arm, fingers pulling at the black sleeve of his t-shirt. His tongue slid into her mouth with teasing determination.

"Well, well. I never thought I'd stumble onto something like this, Colonel Sheppard."

*************************************************************************

Carson watched as the woman opened her eyes. Two startling, piercing blue orbs stared at him. She sat up with a groan. Took in her surroundings. Gasped. "It's all right. You're safe. We're here to help you. I'm a doctor. My name is Carson Beckett."

The woman stared at him, shifting in the bed. "Where am I?" The words came slowly.

"On another planet. Not the one you left."

"The mob–" she recalled in horror, bandaged hand flying to her mouth.

"You're safe. No one will hurt you here," Carson assured. "We brought you through the Stargate to safety. Rest now. You've been through a lot, but you are not seriously injured."

The woman laid back, closing her eyes. "Thank you," she muttered, voice falling as she fell into slumber.

Carson crossed the room. "She'll be out for at least another hour. Time enough for me to check her blood work, make sure she's not carrying any unusual pathogens."

"I'll stand watch. Just in case," Ronon offered.

"So will I. Well, while I study the transmitter," Rodney amended, sitting at a nearby table. "It's quite an ingenious design. An upgrade, if you will, from Ronon's model."

"An upgrade? How?" Ronon asked. He glanced back at the woman. Her eyes were closed, face composed in peaceful lines. Curls of blond hair drifted on the pillow.

"Well, for one, it's smaller," Carson explained. "I had a devil of a time removing the wee thing from muscles in her back."

"Yes, yes, but what I meant is that it has a much more sophisticated signal. I've switched if off, but even then I had to deprogram a failsafe mechanism. The strange thing is how it was reacting to Atlantean technology. Almost as if it were collating data."

"You mean it stores data as well as transmits?" Carson asked, alarmed.

"It did. Now it's effectively dead." Rodney thought a moment. "You remember Teyla's necklace? The one that John activated when he touched it? I think the same thing happened when you touched this, Carson. Although it had no time to transmit its location," he hastily added. "I think. No, there was no time between removal and activation for the signal to emit a pulse over any significant distances."

"Rodney," Carson interjected, "are you telling me that this thing was activated by the ATA gene?"

"Yes. But it is definitely of Wraith design, just like Ronon's. Only a newer model. A Mac over a PC, for example."

"I see. I need to check on the blood work," Carson sighed, moved to his own table.

"McKay, is that important?"

The scientist eyed Ronon, shrugged. "Could be. I don't know. Maybe she can tell us when she wakes up again."


	2. Chapter 2

Natural Selection2

John broke the kiss, slowly drawing his tongue from her mouth, his lips from hers. He stared into her brown eyes, saw the passion, the desire quickly replaced by puzzlement, concern. His fingers slid from under her shirt. In one fluid motion he sat up and reached for his P90 but froze as a Wraith stunner was pointed directly at him. He stared in disbelief at the man holding it. "Ford?" he asked.

Moira sat up clumsily, flustered, yanking her shirt back over her bra. "Ford?" she echoed, staring at the man. He had one solid black eye. Scars on one side of his face. His tattered clothes still bore an Atlantis patch on one shoulder.

"Ford," John repeated, "let's not do anything hasty."

"The same goes for you, colonel," Ford replied evenly.

"Aiden Ford?" Moira stood. The gun swung towards her.

"Do I know you?"

"No. But I know of you. Lieutenant Aiden Ford. Somehow you survived and metabolized the Wraith feeding enzyme into your own bloodstream. Creating a synthesis of your blood cells and the enzyme to manufacture a wholly new genetic structure on a molecular level."

"Uh...yes...I guess..." His gaze darted to John. "A scientist?"

John shrugged. "A scientist," he agreed.

Moira began to talk again, pulling Aiden's attention from John. Ever so slowly John's fingers inched towards the P90 lying in the ferns. "This enzyme fused with the protein in your bloodstream but it is only a temporary state. The result of a maximum exposure. But the Wraith can still feed on you, can't they?"

"Uh...I guess...if they ever caught me." Bewildered by the loquacious woman Aiden could only stare. John silently thanked her for her rambling exposition as he kept his own gaze fixed on his former comrade. Fingers inching closer, closer to the his own weapon as Aiden lowered the stunner slightly.

"The feedback of enzyme would be tremendous. Almost overwhelming for the Wraith. That's why they probably refrain from feeding on you all at once. So there could be another synthesis of the two life forms, the genetic DNA codes of human and Wraith," she stepped slightly in front of John, in front of the gun he was so desperate to reach, still talking, "or at least certain combinations that we haven't yet encountered. Their specific attributes could be altered by the amount of enzyme and protein. You synthesize the enzyme, correct?"

"Yes..."

"So it must be a purer form, an artificial form. A form that negates some of the more harmful Wraith DNA. I read the mission report and from what we have been collating now we–"

John's fingers curled over the weapon. He was on his feet, pointing it at Aiden and sidestepping by Moira in a swift motion. "Ford, I don't want to shoot you."

Moira stumbled back, trying to get out of the way.

"Neither do I, sir," Aiden stated. Sounding sincere. Suddenly he swung the stunner like a club. Impossibly fast the weapon hit hard, slamming John's P90 from his grasp and spinning him. Moira stumbled but a back-handed slap from Aiden sent her reeling to the ground.

Aiden rushed John, tackling him off his feet. John rolled free, jumped upright after slamming his fist into Aiden's side. "Is this how you want it?" he asked, glancing at the sprawled form of Moira. She was slowly moving, groggy.

"Yes, sir." Aiden grinned, rushing him again.

Moira scrambled to her knees, as the two men fought. Fists flew. Kicks landed hard. They brutally engaged in hand to hand combat, both trained, both ruthless. Blood spurted, flew in crimson arcs. Groans and grunts announced successful hits. Aiden sent John flying into a tree.

"Stop it! Stop it!" she cried, looking for a weapon, any weapon. Hefting the Wraith stunner she shot Aiden. A burst of blue energy enveloped him, then faded harmlessly. He turned to her slowly, appearing more amused than angered.

"You think that thing can hurt me? Do you?" he taunted. Smiled.

"No, but this can," John snarled. As Aiden whirled John lunged with his knife. It sunk into Aiden's side. Deep. Blood spurted as John ripped it up the wound, cutting into skin, muscle.

Aiden growled in outrage, surprise. He swung a fist as John's head, knocked him sideways and down into the ferns. He extricated the knife from his side.

"No!" Moira fired the stunner again, but Aiden whirled, ripped it out of her hands. He flung it to the ground. She nearly feel but caught herself, ran to John's prone form and knelt over him. She turned as Aiden approached, blood dripping heavily from his side. "No! Please! Don't kill him! Don't kill him!" she cried.

Aiden smiled. "I don't want to kill him." He shoved her aside. "But if you go for any of the weapons again I'll break an arm, or a leg." He dropped the knife to the bloody ferns. Grunting he hoisted John's unconscious form across his shoulders. "Follow me. Leave the packs."

Moira shakily stood, glanced at the packs, the guns, the bloody knife, but followed Aiden as he entered the tangled forest.

After what seemed like hours of walking they reached a faint trail, began to climb higher, higher. The ground sloped sharply. The sounds of the waterfalls were nearly deafening now, rushing waters as loud as crashing drums. Aiden, even carrying John had no trouble, marching in smooth footsteps. Moira slipped and tripped, but pressed on, grabbing onto the vegetation to haul her up the slope. Her foot began to throb with the constant battering, the clumsy steps, the precarious footholds tangled in vines and ferns.

Finally they reached a narrow ledge. A waterfall poured noisily in front of a dark cave. Aiden ducked under the streaming water, entered. Moira nearly fell, the slick rocks giving her no purchase, but she caught herself, followed. Froze. Skeletal creatures were standing in the shadows. Emaciated, pale flesh clung to tall, deformed bodies, narrow faces.

"Back!" Aiden shouted. The creatures fled into the dark recesses of the cave. He unceremoniously dumped John onto the rocky ground.

Moira limped, fell, suppressed a moan as pain flared. She crawled to John, touched his throat.

A low but steady pulse reassured her. She looked at Aiden. "What do you want? What were those things in the dark?"

Aiden smiled. "Look after him. I'll be back. And don't worry. They won't hurt you, unless you try to escape." He glanced at John, then exited the cave.

**********************************************************************

Rodney smiled, sitting near the bed as the woman opened her eyes. "You're safe," he stated calmly. "I'm Rodney. Doctor Rodney McKay. What was your name again?"

The woman sat up, brushed her blond curls from her face. She smiled. Dimples twinkled. "I am called Allara. What is this place? It is a place of the Ancients?" She stared round in wonder, then looked at Rodney.

"It once was, yes," Rodney confirmed. "You are safe here. You don't have to worry."

"And you rule here?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it ruling, but–" Rodney glared as Ronon snickered, trying not to laugh. "As I was saying," he turned back to the woman, gave his most pleasing smile, "I don't rule but I am a very important scientist. The most important scientist, in fact, and I–"

"We know what you are," Ronon interrupted. He folded his arms across his chest, studying her with a suspicious gaze.

The woman's blue gaze flashed to him, widening in alarm. She looked back at Rodney. "What I am?" she asked slowly. Hands clutching the blankets. Her ample chest heaved with worry, with a deep breath.

"Yes. We know you are a runner. Were a runner. How long have you been one? A runner, I mean, not a woman, I mean, obviously you are a woman, anyone can see that, but how long have you been one? A runner, I mean, not a woman, I–" Rodney stammered, trying not to stare.

Allara smiled at his babbling. "Three years now. A runner, I mean. I've been a woman since I came into this world. I became a runner after the culling on my home world. What did you mean by were?" She shifted her shoulders, feeling discomfort. Tightening of skin and the bandage on her.

"We removed the tracking device. You don't have to run anymore. In fact," Rodney leaned closer to her, smiling, "you could stay here, if you wish. I would like to know about that tracking device. It's actually quite a sophisticated piece of–"

Rodney's words were choked off literally as Allara lunged at him. Her hands encircled his throat, squeezed. Squeezed. "What have you done? What have you done to me?" she screamed in hot fury. She toppled Rodney and herself to the floor. IV tubes popped and pulled out of her arms. Liquid sprayed.

"McKay!" Ronon rushed to grab Allara's arms, but her vise-like grip on Rodney's throat would not budge. Rodney's gurgled breathing turned his face blue.

"What have you done?" she screamed, spitting into his face. "What have you done to me? You will pay for this desecration!"

Ronon pried her fingers off Rodney's throat, resorting to breaking one to free his friend. He hauled her off him, onto the floor and pinned her as Carson and a marine ran to help. "Mckay! I've got her!" Ronon directed their attention as he sat on the struggling attacker.

"Good God! Rodney!" Carson helped the sputtering physicist to his knees. Rodney gasped for breath, color returning to his face.

A stun blast hit Allara. She went limp at last and Ronon shifted his weight off her, but still pinned her securely to the floor. The marine held his weapon on her, staring in disbelief at the petite woman seemingly a match for the much larger Satedan. "Security detail to medical!" he shouted into his radio.

"Rodney, are you all right?" Carson asked.

"What do you think?" Rodney squeaked, coughed. Rubbed his throat as he wheezed. "What the hell was–"

"Heretics! You will all die for this heresy!" the woman screamed, abruptly conscious. She lunged herself from Ronon's grasp with almost unbelievable agility, shoved a bed towards Carson and Rodney to block them. She spun, leapt towards the marine. Before he has time to pull the trigger on his weapon she had neatly slashed her arm across his throat. He fell without a sound. Ronon growled, impressed despite his surprise. He leapt to his feet, whipped out his big gun. Before he could shoot three shots sizzled on the air. A spray of laser fire hit the woman, bright blue bursts. She fell, sprawled hard on the floor. Evan stood, Wraith stunner in both hands, marines flanking him.

"Did you kill her?" asked Carson, helping Rodney to his feet as he shoved the bed away from them. He stared at the prone form.

"No. Not yet." Evan gestured. "Take her to the cells. Double guards."

"What the hell was that?" Rodney repeated, eyes wide as he watched the marines haul the woman to her feet, drag her to the holding cells.

"From her reaction she sounded like she wanted to be a runner," Carson stated, shocked.

"She sounded like a Wraith worshiper," Ronon spat, disgusted.

*********************************************************************

John was having the strangest dream. He was with Moira on an idyllic planet. He was kissing her. Her mouth tasted like fresh strawberries, lips all rosy, soft, and yielding. Her skin smelt like vanilla. Her hair spilled around him in chestnut waves. His hands were sliding along her body, exploring every curve when something crashed into him. Ford was yelling something about enzymes and botany.

He stirred, groaned as pain gouged his body. His head. He opened his eyes, squinting against expected sunlight. But a dimness met his wary gaze. As did Moira's face, watching him worriedly. Tears sparkled in her brown eyes. Her fingers stroked his hair as his head was cushioned on her lap. Her right cheekbone was purpling with a bruise.

John lifted his hand, touched her wound. A light, tender brush of his fingers. "That son of a..."

he rasped, hand dropping like a stone. "Did he...what did he..."

"No. It's nothing," she soothed, shook her head. "It's my foot. The climb up here was..." She winced, bent down to him. Her loose hair swirled around him, like a chestnut curtain as her lips brushed his. "John...how do you feel?"

He grimaced, trying to move. Failing. "Like a bulldozer ran over me. Twice. Climb?"

She nodded. "We're in a cave. Several feet up from that clearing. Don't move." She stopped him, a gentle hand on his chest. Enough to ease him back down.

"Why are you whispering?" he asked, trying to clear his mind. His memories.

"Because we are not alone," she replied. She sat back, flung her hair over her shoulders. Carefully John turned his head. Across the dim expanse a creature sat. At first he thought it was a Wraith, and tried to sit up, a quick reaction that only caused his head to swim. He groaned.

"No, John." She eased him back down again, her hands gentle but firm on his chest. "Don't move. You'll antagonize it."

"It?" he asked quietly, trying to see but he had to close his eyes as dizziness overwhelmed.

She stroked his arm, his bruised knuckles. "Yes. Now be still. We are not in any immediate danger."

He opened his eyes to meet hers. The bruise was a plum mark against her pale skin. Her red lips. Strawberries. He tried to clear his thoughts again. "Ford?"

"I don't know. He's been gone awhile."

"You gave me a good shot taking him down. By distracting him with all of your scientific and biological rambling."

"Glad I could help with my rambling, colonel," she said acerbically. "Actually I was starting to run out of words to distract him. What took you so long?"

"Will you stop asking me that?" he retorted. "I had to move cautiously. Ford's unstable. And different," he realized, frowning.

"I noticed. The enzyme has metabolized into a–"

"No. I mean he's stronger. A lot stronger. And faster."

She gently touched his jaw where a bruise was forming. "Try to rest, John. You've been out for at least an hour."

"An hour? I–" He tried to sit up again, groaned. Cursed.

"Keep still!" she ordered. "Please."

"Our stuff?"

"He made me leave the packs behind. And the weapons. I know," she said to his grimace, "we have no medical supplies, not even basic–"

"No, it's not that. He took our lunch," he moaned.

She smiled at his distress, then softly laughed. He smiled, laughed but groaned, touched his head. "Rest. You're going to need all of your strength."

"Really? Promise?" He raised an eyebrow, then glanced at the shadows. "What is that thing, Moira?"

"I don't know." Her face took on a thoughtful expression as she stared across at it. "I can't see it too clearly, but it seems to perceive you as a threat. No, just relax," she instructed, running her hand over his chest, waist, sides. "Anything broken?"

"Oh, is that what you were doing?" He smiled as she met his gaze. "No. I don't think so." He settled back against her, head on her lap, shifting slightly on the rocky ground.

She stroked his hair again, fascinated by its waywardness. "That's something." She leaned down, brushed her lips across his. Unable to resist the temptation of those full, kissable lips.

"Rest." She regarded the cave entrance. A shower of water lined it like prison bars. "You know what's strange, John?" she began, realizing how to lull him to relaxation. "We haven't encountered any significant life. I mean mammalian or even avian, for that matter. Only the odd toad and the fish. This planet is ideal for life to exceed, to excel. The oxygen content is rich, but not as rich as Miocene Park. I'm no botanist but this plant life doesn't appear to be prehistoric. I mean the plants and trees are recognizable and would thrive on Earth. Thought not as abundantly here, of course. Except in Ireland...when they say forty shades of green they are not kidding, let me tell you, the rich variety of..." She paused, eyed him. "What took you so long?" she murmured. A slight smile framed his lips, as if he had heard her, then a slight snore as he fell into a peaceful doze.

Moira smiled, shaking her head. She waited awhile, almost lulled herself by the sound of the waterfall, the warmth of his body next to hers. Even the creature was quiescent. Carefully she scooted free of John, gently set his head on the cavern floor. She stood, stretched her arms, legs, flexed her foot. The intense pain had receded to a dull ache.

She made her way to the cave entrance. She peered out, captured some of the falling water in her hands and sipped it. Wiping her hands dry on her legs she leaned closer, about to stick her head through the water when the creature grunted.

Startled she stumbled backwards, raised her hands as Aiden crossed the threshold, holding a gun on her.

John stirred, hearing noises. Voices. He woke abruptly, not feeling Moira. He barely opened his eyes, feigning sleep. Moira was backing up into the cave, Aiden following, gun steadily on her. Her stumbling steps brought her close. Closer.

"I said I was only getting a drink of water," Moira argued.

"Nice try. Here."

John opened his eyes a little wider. Moira was standing about a foot away from him. Aiden was holding out a mass of green plants, studded with tiny blue flowers. John stared, for a moment finding the scene more reminiscent of a courtship ritual than any kind of danger. He blinked again to clear the odd idea from his head.

"What is it?" Moira asked, staring at the plant

"Take it!" Aiden snarled, shoving it at her. Moira took the plant, stumbled back a step. It felt spongy in her hands, moist. "It's a painkiller. Give it to Sheppard. Only a little. If I had wanted him dead I would have killed him already."

"How do you know about this plant?"

"I've been here awhile. Was injured. The plant's edible. It has recuperative properties. But only a little," he reiterated. He tilted his head suddenly. "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere."

He smiled, whirled. Was gone.

Moira sighed, turned and moved to John as he struggled to sit. She sat next to him. "How do you feel?"

Instead of answering he eyed the plant. Touched it. "What do you think?"

"I...I don't know. I'm no botanist."

"So I recall," he teased.

"But this plant could be medicinal." She frowned, rubbing the leaves between her fingers. She sniffed the oily residue. "I don't think you should eat it," she cautioned. "Maybe I can somehow bargain for our packs."

"I doubt it." He took a handful from her, sniffed. "I don't see why not." He lifted it to his mouth, about to devour it.

"No!" She pushed his hand down. "We can't be sure, John! And you said Ford was different!"

"So?"

"He didn't sound right. About coming here. Injured? I mean, you couldn't put a single scratch on him."

"Thanks," he ruefully commented.

"And what he said about this plant. The plants!" Her eyes widened. "There are no Wraith here! And he could only have a limited supply of artificial..."

"He's stronger and faster because the plants produce the enzyme. Is that what you are saying?" he guessed, following her argument.

"Maybe...I don't know. It could explain Ford. It could explain...a lot, actually. You can't eat this, John! The side-effects are too severe!"

"I have to do this, Moira," he argued, pulling his hand from hers. "We need an edge. Any edge. If we are going to get out of here I need to beat Ford. And frankly, there's no way I can do it now. Not like this."

"No! You can't–" she disagreed, trying to take the plant from him, but he dropped it into his lap, caught her hands firmly in his.

"Moira, I have to do this! It's the only way."

"We can wait it out! A rescue team–"

"There's no time for that. You've seen Ford. He's even more unbalanced. No. This is the only way."

"John–"

But he freed her hands, stuffed a clump of the moss into his mouth. Chewed. "It's not too bad...sort of like pasta...stringy, vegetable pasta..." he spoke round the mouthful.

Moira stared, unbidden tears in her eyes. "John..." she faltered, fearing the worst.

"I won't turn into the Swamp Thing, will I?" he asked, trying to divert her despair.

"That's a biological impossibility."

"Maybe not in this galaxy." He paused. "It's not easy being green," he sang in a surprisingly on-key tenor voice.

She laughed despite herself. But her mirth faded into despair as he ate another clump. He chewed methodically, looking away from her evident distress. Blocking his own doubts.

"I'll be fine, Moira," he said after swallowing. "A little detox and I'll be just dandy."

"Unless this form of the enzyme is more potent, or chemically different, or more–"

"Could you get me some water, please?" he asked, grimacing at the taste.

She rose, moved to the waterfall. She cupped her hands, filled them with cold, clear water. She hastened back to him, knelt. He took her hands into his, drank the liquid. He ran his lips up her wrist, met her startled gaze. "I'll be fine, Moira. Let's hope this works fast. Ugh." He touched his stomach, groaned, laid on his back.

Moira looked away, unable to watch. The creature grunted. She stood, stepped away from John. But quickly returned as he curled onto his side, holding his stomach. "John? John?" She knelt, touched his arm.

"I'm fine," he stated through gritted teeth.

"Hold on...maybe there's a natural antidote, or a corresponding plant to counteract the–"

"Moira." He tensed, then suddenly relaxed. "It's over."

"It's only just beginning," she realized. She stroked his arm, felt the strength, the stress, the tautness of the muscles. She turned. "Ford," she warned softly. Stood.

John lay inert, feigning sleep. He rolled onto his other side. Moira blocked his way as she shifted her stance. Aiden entered, brandishing his gun.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

John smiled at the blunt question. He had been wondering the same thing. His fingers closed on the loose dirt, tiny rocks. Nothing of any use was in reach. He weighed his options.

"What brought you here anyway? Besides your little romantic encounter?"

"We have reason to believe this planet may hold something unusual," she breezed past his contempt. "Have you noticed anything odd about this planet? Any unusual life forms?"

"You know there have been other women."

"What?" The comment threw her.

Aiden smiled. "Lots."

"It wouldn't surprise me," she replied evenly.

Aiden cocked his head, studying her. "Really? None of them even meant anything, of course. Just meaningless, random encounters. Physical necessities."

"Don't listen to him," John said, irritated. He awkwardly moved to a seated position, scooting to have a clear view of Aiden. "Ford, what the hell do you want?"

Aiden trained his gun on John, then on Moira. "Don't try anything, Sheppard. I have leverage now. Try anything and I will kill her." He gestured at Moira.

"No, you don't," John countered calmly. He moved to his knees, shifting slightly to Moira's left.

"Really? Then she doesn't mean anything? Just another notch on the bedpost? Just another–"

"Touch her again and I will kill you," John said earnestly. He felt hot, but confident. A surge of adrenaline coursed along his muscles, sharpened his focus. All the pain was gone.

"You can't even stand," Aiden mocked, but there was a tiny tremor of uncertainty in his voice.

John kept talking as if Aiden had never spoken. "With my bare hands if I have to but I will kill you." He swayed as if weakened.

Aiden laughed, shaking his head. Lowering the gun. "I'd like to see you try to–"

No sooner were the words out of his mouth then John sprang to his feet, past Moira and into Aiden. The gun flew as the powerful momentum swept both men to the front of the cave. To the waterfall. Through the waterfall.

"John! John!" Moira cried, rushing after them. She crossed the barrier of water, caught herself on the thin piece of land. Below was a precipice, a far drop into a turquoise lake. Both men, still grappling, crashed into the water.

"John! John!" she cried, foot cramping, nearly falling in after them but a hand caught her arm. Or rather a taloned paw as she whirled to look. She gasped as the creature emerged, pulling her back from the brink. She yanked free of the skeletal creature. "I have to help him! I have to find him!" She lurched towards the narrow pathway, half ran, half slid down it.


	3. Chapter 3

Natural Selection3

Elizabeth shook her head, staring at the woman in the cell. Allara was pacing. Strong strides that echoed in every muscle, every nerve of her petite body. Occasionally she would hit the bars. The blue forcefield erupted, stinging her, but she seemed to relish the pain, to welcome it. Then she would resume pacing. A fierce determination on her beautiful face. "Have you ever encountered a runner like this?"

Ronon scowled, standing beside Elizabeth to watch the monitor. "No. Never."

"Nor have I. She is quite...unusual," Teyla commented, shaking her head as she watched the prisoner. Admiring her skills although deploring their use. "She has had extensive training and is clearly a warrior."

"She tried to kill me!" Rodney exclaimed. He gingerly touched the bruise marks on his throat, avoiding the monitor and the caged woman it displayed.

"Because we removed the tracking device. Instead of avoiding people she would willingly lead the Wraith to them," Elizabeth explained. She suppressed a shudder.

"That is horrible," Rodney agreed. "How could I ever have thought she was hot," he bemoaned quietly to himself.

"You're not going to believe this!" Carson joined the group in the conference room, took a seat. "She has the protein!" At their blank looks he continued, "The same protein Ronon has. The natural protein that the Hoffans and I produced artificially with their serum. The Wraith cannot feed on her."

"The same protein? How is that possible?" Rodney asked, glancing at Ronon. His expression seemed fixed in a permanent scowl. "Is she Satedan?"

Ronon shrugged. "How would I know? Do you know every person on Earth?"

"Ah...point taken," Rodney conceded.

Ronon's glower got darker. "And no Satedan would ever willingly help or worship the Wraith. We would rather die," he firmly stated.

"As would most in this galaxy," Teyla added. "There are rumors of those who worship the Wraith...but I have never encountered one face to face."

"Looks like we have now," Evan remarked grimly.

"At first I thought the protein in Ronon's system was a fluke, or an anomaly. Or perhaps a genetic defense naturally occurring on Sateda. But now...with another specimen, it seems to have evolved in other human populations," Carson mused. "This is quite fascinating, really, the emergence of another–"

"As a natural defense? Against the Wraith?" asked Elizabeth.

"Yes. That was Moira's theory. A natural defense evolving over centuries of development and population growth. Hampered by the rarity of the protein itself and the cullings of existing populations. I wish she was here. I could use her help on this." He tapped his data pad.

"Sheppard hasn't reported back yet? That's odd," Rodney remarked, still fingering his delicate throat. Coughed discreetly.

"Perhaps..." Carson smiled.

"What? Well, he should be checking in by now, right?" Rodney asked. "Now that we have a crazy Wraith devotee in the city. What are we going to do with her?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Elizabeth agreed, eying each person at the table. "She obviously won't be very cooperative, will she? And she cannot stay. But she may have information we need. About others like her. Even about the Wraith."

"I could try to talk to her...perhaps as a woman I would be less threatening," Teyla suggested, with a shrug of her shoulders.

"You? You're more threatening sometimes," Rodney commented, causing her to smile. "I say we push her through the Stargate to the farthest uninhabited planet. Let her friends the Wraith take care of her from now on."

"If I could have a few more samples it could prove invaluable as to isolating that particular protein," Carson offered.

Elizabeth considered. Finally her gaze rested on Ronon. He was staring at the monitor, had not taken his malignant glare off it for nearly the entire time. "Ronon? What do you think? You haven't said too much."

"When does he say too...oh, sorry," Rodney bit back his jibe, coughed quietly to indicate he was still injured.

Ronon tore his glare from the screen. Met Elizabeth's inquiring look. "I say we kill her."

***********************************************************************

John hit the water hard, sank to the bottom as he strangled Aiden. The lieutenant wrestled free but John caught his leg, yanked him down into the turquoise depths. Punched his gut as he wasn't underwater at all. Crystal shards smashed as they slammed into one of the taller pillars.

John reached for his knife but the holster was empty. He dove under Aiden as the other man swung his fist. Instead of hitting his adversary he hit another crystal pillar. It shattered, almost ringing like a bell. John swam, swirled and kicked out at the lieutenant, but Aiden had quickly whirled and finally landed his closed fist into John's side. John sank with the impact but again grabbed Aiden's leg, keeping him submerged. Until a kick knocked his chin and Aiden was free.

Moira ran to the bank of the lake, nearly fell as her foot cramped. "John! John!" she shouted. The calm surface of the water revealed nothing. Nothing of the furious fight beneath. "Dammit I wish Carson was here! John!" Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered. She took a few steps into the water. It was cool, soothing.

A splash drew her attention. A man emerged, gasping for air. She stumbled backwards, out of the water as Aiden swam, then staggered out of the lake. He glared at her, headed right for her. Moira couldn't move fast enough and suddenly he had reached her, caught her arms and shook her. "What did you do? What did you do?" he demanded, spitting water.

"I–"

"Did you give him all of it? Did you?" Aiden nearly screamed at her, furious. Fingers dug into her bare arms.

She winced at the pain he was inflicting. "He took–" she began, voice strained.

"How could you do that? Do you know what you've done? Do you?" he shouted, forcing her backwards, not loosening his grip. "Why did you do it?"

"You forced him!" she argued, trying to pull free. Her foot cramped and she cried out in pain. "You forced–"

"You bitch! You've killed him! You've killed him!" Aiden screamed at her, shaking her again.

"It was you! You!" A splash made her look past Aiden's furious face. She stared, all pain forgotten. Her struggles ceased.

John stepped out of the lake. Water cascaded down his drenched form. The black t-shirt and blue pants were molded to his long, lean body. The water sparkled in his dark hair. Sparkled on his skin as it dripped down his face, his neck, his bare arms.

"How could you do it? Tell me! How much did you give him?" Aiden demanded, but Moira's gaze was locked on John, relieved he was alive, worried at his state, startled by his vitality.

"Let her go."

The quiet words were deep, slow. Aiden released her, shoving her back. He whirled. "Sheppard? You–"

"I said let her go!" he snarled, rushed at him. In a second he was up the bank, crashing violently into Aiden. Moira fell to her knees as her foot gave way. John flew several yards with Aiden. Both hit the ground hard. John sprang to his feet, as did Aiden, but John pivoted, foot flying to land in Aiden's gut. Fists flying to land on jaw, nose, neck. Aiden staggered under the rapid assault, fell. A cracked lip bled profusely.

"Don't ever touch her again!" John ordered harshly. Aiden struggled to his feet but John pounced on him, beat him to the ground. His fists smashed into Aiden's unprotected face, body.

"John! John, no!" Moira stood, lurched towards him, half-dragging her foot. "John, please, you'll kill him!" she shouted. "John!" She grabbed his arm before it swung again at the now unconscious Aiden. She fell to her knees.

John twisted, fist flying back towards her. He froze, stopping the momentum before smashing her face. Moira gasped, released his arm and quickly stood. The speed and sudden stillness were eerie, unnatural. She backed away, limping. Froze. John slowly stood. Using the back of one hand he wiped the blood off his lip. Spat.

Moira tried to calm her racing heart, her rapid breathing. John stepped towards her, a feral gleam in his intense green eyes as they raked over her. Soaking wet he still moved with a feline grace.

"John, John, it's the enzyme. You need to relax. It's all right," she said, trying to soothe him, but her breathless voice caused other reactions. As his sensual gaze raked over her again she felt a rush of desire, so strong it was almost a physical blow. She took another step backwards.

John stepped to her, caught her arms in a gentle grasp. Ran his wet hands down her warm skin to her elbows where the marks of Aiden's grip stood out as angry red lines on her soft flesh. He eyed them, then met her gaze. "Moira."

"Yes, John," she said, after swallowing. His voice was low, gruff, sending a shiver across her skin. "I'm all right, really, we'll be all right now. Evan will come looking for..." She stopped, regretting her words as a glint of anger stole across his handsome face, then was gone. He pulled her to him. He kissed her. His mouth claiming hers hungrily, searing as his hands ran down her back to her rear. He thrust her body against his, pressing her against him. Every inch.

Moira's muffled protests drowned into his mouth. Drowned under the teasing thrusting of his tongue. Dissolving under his nimble fingers as they gently squeezed her rear, causing her to squirm against him. She ran her hands up to his chest, his shoulders as she eased back, breathing heavily, freeing her mouth from his. She moved against him, then away as his arousal was all too evident. As was her body's response. She blushed. "John, you–" But he kissed her again, demanding, insistent. He moved her back and she awkwardly stumbled, fell to the ground. Smoothly he followed her, hands moving to part her thighs, to move between.

"John, you–" she tried again, but gasped as he moved her onto her back, kissing her again. His fingers pried at her pants, wandering, searching for intimate details until she caught his face between her hands. Using all of her willpower she focused her words. "John! John, this isn't the time or the place," she reasoned, trying to reach him. Trying to stifle her own ardent yearnings. "I know you can hear me, John. I know you are still there."

He stared at her, blinked. "Moira?"

"Yes, John. Let me take care of your injuries. The enzyme is affecting your...your judgement," she explained, trying to scoot from beneath him.

"My...judgement?" he asked, shifting with her, not letting her go. He smiled, hands sliding up her waist, pushing her shirt up to her bra. "I don't think that's my judgement," he argued, kissing her again. Abruptly he slid down, ran his mouth down her side, down her bare skin, down to her pants.

Moira shuddered, almost lost herself in the erotic entanglement but caught his arm, yanking as he lifted up, prying at her pants again. "John! What about Ford?"

"Ford?" He rolled off her smoothly, stood. "Ford."

"He's out cold, John, don't–" she warned, sitting up, shoving her shirt back down over her as he took a step towards the prone figure of the lieutenant. "John?"

He looked at her, clearly torn. Suddenly he grimaced, doubled over. He sprang to the trees, fell to his knees and vomited.

Moira moved to her feet, startled, wincing at the continued retching sounds. She pursed her lips together, suppressing her own gag reflex, and walked to Aiden. She stared at him. Nudged him with her good foot. The man was unconscious, his face a bloody mess. His nose askew. One arm bent at an odd angle. Blood seeped from his side. Moira stared, appalled at the damage. At the sheer ferocity.

Hearing a noise she whirled, suppressed a moan as her foot twisted. John was struggling to his feet. Slowly she headed for him, seeking the shaded area of clearing, but fell again as her foot cramped.

John wiped his mouth, grimaced at the undigested vegetative mess he has spewed upon the ferns. His stomach cramped. He saw Moira fall. He staggered towards her, fell himself and groaned.

He clasped his head, his stomach, rolled onto his side. The sunlight was agony and he closed his eyes tightly against it.

Moira crawled to him. She gingerly touched his arm. "John? John...relax." His body shook, then went still. His breathing slowed. "It's just the detox," she realized. "You don't have a tolerance for the enzyme in this raw form...thank goodness!" She sat, unmoving as a breeze chilled her now wet clothes. She turned to keep an eye on Aiden, kept her hand on John's bare arm. A reassuring warmth. "I hope you wake up first," she whispered, glancing up at the purpling sky.

**************************************************************************

All eyes were on Ronon. He shrugged again, met the startled, appalled gazes of his companions. "What?" he asked, genuinely baffled by their silence.

"You can't be serious," Rodney said.

"Why not? She is a threat. Not only to us but to everyone. Wraith worshipers betray every human in this galaxy by aligning with those monsters. Sheppard would agree with me."

"Whether he would or not is not relevant. Besides, he is not here. I am. And we will not sink to their level of–" Elizabeth staunchly began.

Ronon laughed harshly, cutting her comments. "You can't compare them to us. You have no idea of what they," he jerked his thumb towards the monitor, "are capable of, do you? Have you ever been faced with this kind of treachery? If you lived a lifetime in this galaxy, constantly under the threat of brutal cullings you would understand."

"I am afraid that Ronon has valid points," Teyla stated. "As outsiders, you cannot possibly understand how our life has been here."

"True," Rodney conceded, "but we've had our own share of treachery back on Earth. Our history is riddled with it."

"No, Rodney," Elizabeth raised her hand in a hush gesture, "Ronon and Teyla are right." She looked up to face the Satedan squarely in the eyes. "You are right, Ronon. We have never had an experience like yours, like Teyla's, like anyone's here in the Pegasus galaxy. Living day to day, year to year, decade to decade under the Wraith threat...we can't imagine whole worlds enslaved and impoverished by those creatures."

Teyla inclined her head in graceful acknowledgment Ronon grunted. Carson stared. "Elizabeth...are you seriously considering taking her life?"

"No." She glanced at Carson, at the monitor where the woman was kneeling in the middle of the cell. As if in prayer. "We don't kill people. Not even our enemies in cold blood. Carson, if you need more samples of her blood and tissues you will take them now."

"Yes. I could use more..." the doctor agreed, reassured but still uneasy.

"And then what?" asked Rodney.

"Then we will send her to another world, as you suggested, Rodney. Without the tracking device she has no way to contact the Wraith, correct?"

"Yes."

"What if she has Wraith DNA, like Teyla?" Rodney posited.

"Carson?"

"No, Elizabeth, she does not. Of that I am certain."

"Good. So even if choose a sparsely populated planet she can do no harm."

Ronon shook his head. "I disagree. She is evil. She will spread her lies and try to convert people into Wraith worshipers. She will find a way to contact them, or they will find her, and when she does reach them she will tell them all about us," he warned.

"I doubt that. How could she contact them?" Rodney wondered. "I think you are letting your paranoia over these Wraith worshipers go–"

Ronon slammed his palm onto the table. The monitor jumped. As did Rodney. "You don't understand! She is the enemy! Maybe even worse than the Wraith because she is willingly helping them!" He stalked out of the room, furious.

"Ronon!" Teyla called, rising to her feet. "You must try to understand. For us it is the highest insult to even consider helping a Wraith worshiper. Anyone who does is considered a traitor to their own people. Excuse me." She hastened after her friend.

"Teyla! Ronon, wait! We–" Elizabeth made to follow when Rodney stopped her.

"Let him go. Teyla can talk sense to him. Believe me, you need to let him cool down. I think you had better contact Sheppard. If Teyla can't reason with him John's the only one who can talk any sense to him and he will listen. Usually. Right?" He looked around the room to see various shrugs.

"I think you are right, Rodney," Elizabeth acquiesced. "Major, please do the honors."

"Of course, ma'am," Evan agreed.

"Right. I'll get my kit and get those samples. But I will sedate her first," Carson stated.

"Yeah, you had better give her a double dose," Rodney agreed, once more touching his bruised neck.

************************************************************************

"Ronon!" Teyla had to run to catch up to the Satedan's long strides as he swept down the hallway to the exercise room. He whirled, long coat flying out like wings as she approached, a look of stubborn sympathy on her face. "You must be patient with these people."

"So you keep telling me!" He strode into the room, turned again as she followed. At a narrowed glare a couple of marines who had been sparring quickly left, dropping their sticks in their haste.

"And I have been. Patient with them. But this...surely you can't stomach this! Humane treatment for a worshiper?" he spat out the word.

Teyla shook her head. "No, I cannot. But it is their way. It once was ours, before we learned of those who would betray their own people, their own species. We must honor their ways, Ronon. They have listened to us. But the final decision is their's."

Ronon nodded, clearly unhappy. "I know. If Sheppard was here he would see what to do. He's a soldier. He knows when to kill. When it is necessary."

"Yes. But he is not here. Weir is. And if she is more comfortable with banishment then so be it. You cannot change her decision. Nor can I. We can only offer them our experience, our knowledge." She sighed, touched his arm. Felt the tension. "Now...Doctor Beckett is going to take his samples. Should you not be there in case he needs your help?"

Ronon sourly nodded. "Yes. I should. I wish I had some of your patience."

She smiled up at him. "Only if you give me some of your height."

***********************************************************************

Moira jerked awake from her dozing. Hours had passed. The purplish sky was turning violet. A bright white moon was on the verge of rising over the canyons as the light faded gradually from the sky. Moira knew she should stand, check on Aiden, tie him up somehow, find a weapon, but she was so tired. So tired, and did not want to leave John. His solid, reassuring warmth at her back. Recalling how she had nearly succumb to his rough but arousing seductions she sighed, uncertain. She rubbed her aching foot.

John moaned. His head ached. Muscles screamed in protest when he tried to move. Images racked his brain. Water. Fighting underwater. Moira. Moira beneath him, their bodies locked in friction, but no release. The taste of her mouth. The taste of her skin. He groaned, but not with pain this time. He felt a cooling breeze. Felt his clothes sticking to him. Felt a warm pressure at his back.

He turned onto his back, flexing muscles. Tasting blood he touched his lip, his jaw. Viewed the blood on his raw knuckles. Memory flooded back into his brain, disjointed images. Violence. Lust. He sat up suddenly, turned. "Moira? Moira?" He shook her shoulder.

Moira had drifted off again, slumped against him. She woke, straightened, looked to where Aiden still lay. "John? What is it?" She turned to him, wincing. She touched her foot.

His gaze followed her hand. "Did I do that?"

"No," she assured.

"Did I do this?" he asked, touching her arm. The marks remained. Red bruising on her skin.

"No. That was Ford. He's over there, still unconscious but alive," she hastily informed him. "You did quite a number on him. You..." She touched his arm, felt a wave of tears and looked away from his concern. "I was afraid you had drowned."

Misinterpreting he touched her jaw, turned her face to his. "I don't remember much clearly. Did I...did I...did we..." he found the words difficult and swallowed.

"No." The one word made him almost sag with relief. Regret whispered. "Nothing happened. Like that, I mean, I mean nothing...the enzyme left your body all at once." She studied the ground as if it was intriguing.

"Yeah, I remember that," he said, the disgusting taste lingering in his mouth.

"I suspect this form of the enzyme is more potent but also more incompatible with humans. I can't be sure because I am–"

"No botanist, got it," he finished for her, sounding more like himself.

She smiled, relieved. She rubbed her foot. "And you have little toleration for this form of the enzyme. It wasn't in you long enough to metabolize, at least I don't think it was...it did, not all of it," she stammered, frowning in uncertainty. "I don't know about Ford. His body may react differently. It has a different chemical composition." She wiped her eyes as tears sprang, Aiden's accusations of her killing John echoing. She scooted her knees up to her chest. Hugged herself against the night.

John hesitated, uncertain. Wondered at her emotional reaction. He touched her shoulder, a gentle brush of his fingers on her. "Where is Ford now?"

"By that tree to the...oh oh." She stared. It was harder to see in the gathering gloom, but no prone shadow was discernible among the crushed ferns.

John moved to his feet silently, helped her up and led her towards the spot. Trampled grass and blood revealed where he had been. But was no longer. "Crap," John muttered. He squatted, eyed the ferns, seeing the blood trail weave through the trees. "We have to find him. This way. Stay close to me, Moira."

He led her, following the trodden crimson grasses, quickly turning to brown in the fading light. They circled the lake, now an expanse of cobalt blue as the sunlight dimmed. There was still enough light from the rising moon for the crystalline structures to sparkle like diamonds in the cliff faces. The sound of the waterfalls was almost deafening.

The ground widened out to another clearing. Trees parted, forming a shadowed barricade on one side. Moira suddenly moved ahead of John as he stopped. "Our packs!"

"Wait!" He grabbed her arm, stopping her. "It could be a trap." He scanned the clearing, the trees, the grasses. Less blood dotted the foliage. He listened, could only hear the thundering water. The breezes. "Slowly," he decided.

She led him to their packs, squatted and rifled through them as he stood guard, after a quick but appreciative perusal of her rear as she leaned forward. "No weapons. No medical supplies! Damn! Even the aspirin is gone! Oh, here. I'm starving!" She produced a ration bar, tore into the wrapping and bit off a chunk. "Here," she offered him another.

"No, thanks. Puking up moss killed my appetite."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." She pulled out a water bottle, opened it and took a long sip. She closed the cap. "Here." She tossed it towards him but he had moved away from her. Nevertheless he shifted, stepping speedily, bending a knee to catch it deftly. He unscrewed the cap, took a sip. Swished and spat. Then took a long swallow. He screwed on the cap, saw her wary gaze. "What?" he asked.

Suspicious she returned her gaze to the packs. Ate her ration bar. "Nothing. That's all we have left. One more ration bar, and that bottle of water. Oh, and this." She pulled out a bio-scanner. Frowned. Sighed. Smiled.

John unscrewed the bottle, took another deep drink as he watched her. "I don't think getting drinking water is going to be a problem here," he quipped. She was digging in the pack, pulled out a cloth band. She lifted her arms, gathering her hair behind her into a ponytail, securing it with the band. She pulled the damp t-shirt from her chest where it clung. She folded her knees under her, shifting her hips and weight to ease the strain on her foot. She held the bio-scanner. It's screen gave off an amber glow.

"We may have to have sex," she stated, as a matter-of-fact. Water sputtered out of John's mouth as he had taken another drink. It was as if she had read his thoughts. He screwed the cap tightly on the bottle.

"What?" he asked, his voice caught in a hoarse rasp, between bewilderment and desire. Every muscle tightened, tensed.

Moira was still studying the scanner. Very aware of him standing there, watching her. "I don't think all of the enzyme has left your body. You got most of it out when you...ejected it," she tactfully amended, "but your body did absorb some of it. You released some fighting Ford and then...that...um...anyway," she referred obliquely to their almost tryst, "but the way you caught that water bottle and your heightened senses make me suspect you are still infected with it. If I tested your sweat I bet I would find traces of the substance."

"So..." he said, walking closer to her, circling round her like a hawk circles potential prey before it strikes, "because I caught a water bottle you want to have sex with me. Here. Now. Not that I'm objecting or anything."

She blushed, tapped the bio-scanner's screen, not daring to look at him. "You're still reading other. Half as human. Half as other. Look." She turned it towards him, pointed. "This is me. This must be Ford, about half a mile from our position. This is you. The half and half reading. And judging by the fact you can read this scanner from there, in the darkness, just proves my original assertion that you–" She gasped as he knelt to her, took the scanner from her hands to make her meet his gaze.

"I see. And this is purely based on scientific speculation? On biological calculations?"

She opened her mouth to answer, lost for words. "I...yes...no...yes...John..."

"I don't want to be a scientific experiment, Moira. We're about to go past the point of no return. If we do this....how much is because of what we want and how much is because of what you think I need to become myself? Because of my own heightened animalistic urges?"

She swallowed, unable to pull her hands from his, her gaze from his. "I...I don't know..."

"Exactly. As much as I want you, and believe me, I do want you, I can't do that to you. To us. To what might happen between us otherwise. I won't. Not here. Not now. Not like this."

He freed her hands, sat back. Licked his lips. Tongue moving slowly over his mouth.

Moira's gaze was riveted but she snatched the scanner from the grass, checked it again. She didn't know what to say. Overwhelmed, impressed, puzzled, enamored, she could only stare at the amber screen and its coldly logical assertions. "It's...it's a little over half now..." she noted with dismay. She set it on the pack, stood, turned away from him. Breathing deeply of the cool air. Twilight had deepened to a violet, velvet blackness. Relieved only by the rising moon casting the clearing in a sheen of silver. Relieved, frustrated, worried she said, "Well, you have to find some way to get rid of the enzyme before it increases in your system. So, so either find someone, something to fight, or, or, or simulate release of your, your libidinous–"

He laughed, a natural, human sound but with a slight edge. "Are you telling me I need to jack off to re–"

"Whatever it takes!" she snapped, furious. "Just do it now!" She stomped away from him, staring at the darkness as her face burned. She closed her eyes, suppressing a tremble that ran through her entire body.

His hand ran up her back. She whirled, lost her footing, but he righted her. "I can think of a better way." He drew her close, kissed her gently. "I wish I had a breath mint," he joked, but she had pulled back from him.

"You said you didn't–"

"I said I wouldn't," he corrected. "But you said simulate," he countered with a smile. "So unless you can find me someone to beat mercilessly this will have to be it. I'm trusting you to stop us before I lose control. All right, Moira? It's all in your hands, not mine. Just get us to the point of release."

She hesitated, tempted. Torn. "All, all right, John,"she agreed slowly. She ran her hands up his chest, up to his shoulders. She kissed him, pressing her body to his. She shifted, rubbing her body against his, murmured audibly until the desired affect was keenly felt. She drew him to the packs, raining kisses on his lips, his sore jaw, his throat. Running her hands down to his trousers. To tease. To tug.

John groaned, moving her down to the ground, his mouth seeking hers, hands seeking under her shirt, then sliding into her pants. His tongue slid across his cheek to glide along her throat. His body thrust against hers as it squirmed beneath him. His fingers slid up under her shirt again, under the bra to firmly grasp a breast, to cup its fullness against his palm, to gently knead.

Moira knew in this position she could rapidly lose control, just from the fact of his weight pressing her down. She abruptly pushed him onto his back, freed herself and straddled him.

"John Sheppard, after this you are going to owe me a very large drink. With lots of ice," she said sternly, began rocking in momentum. He smiled, ran his hands up her thighs but she caught them, pushed them back against the grass. Leaning down to kiss him, taking his tongue into her mouth as her breasts brushed along his chest. Then she was upright again, gyrating, grinding as he was thrusting up with her, the barrier of their clothing not hindering the acceleration of his hardness, her wetness, their mutual desires.

"My goodness, colonel, that is some big ordnance you've got in there," Moira stated breathlessly, eyes widening as she felt his erection keenly now, even through their clothes.

"You have no idea, doctor, but you will," he said smugly, voice strained as the passion grew, grew, as he could feel her dampness all but inviting him.

Moira could feel it coming, even like this. She opened her legs wider, riding him harder. Faster. Quicker now, nearly flying off him before crashing onto him again. She gasped, moaned. A little spiral of pleasure, then another blossomed, her body reacting vividly to his. "Now? Now?"she asked in a whimper.

"Almost," he groaned, the tension unbearable, the pants painfully tight. The underwear too confining. It took all of his willpower not to grab her, not to rip the clothes from them both to achieve maximum contact.

"Now? Now?" she asked, arching as another wave hit her, a teasing taste of what could be much, much more if not for the impediment of clothing. "What's taking you so long?"

"Stop asking me that!" he snarled, about to break, about to come in his pants. Suddenly realizing that was the goal. "Now!" he growled, nearly throwing her off as he rolled to the side, savagely unzipped his pants and freed himself from all confines.

Moira sprawled on her back, on the grass, exhausted, somewhat sated. Amused. Embarrassed. She slowed her breathing, shifted in her sodden underwear. An audible moaning told her he had finally achieved release. The short spasms of his body next to hers. The quiet grunt and strain. The long exhalation of breath. She closed her eyes, trying to block the experience, but failing.

"I wish you would stop asking me that," John grumbled when he could trust his voice. He reassembled his clothes. He felt sticky, sweaty, sated but far from satisfied. Amused.

Moira scooted closer to the packs, rolled onto her side to check the bio-scanner. "I'll check the readings,"she said softly, a slight quaver in her voice. "Don't move. Stay there," she warned, let he touch her. Reignite the whole cycle. "Okay...okay...here we go...slowly now...slowly..."

"Could you just say yes or no?" he chided, taking her breathy words in an entirely different way.

"There! You are very nearly clear of the enzyme. Only, only about ten percent remaining. By morning you should be clear. I think."

"Really?" he asked into her ear. Suddenly he was there, lying next to her, his body spooning hers as his arm encircled her waist. "Maybe we should go again to be absolutely certain, Moira."

"Hilarious, John," she chided.

"Hilarious? I think we should go again, Moira," he insisted, irresistibly drawn. "After all, we just had sex without having sex and it was pretty amazing. Imagine how it would be if we did take off our clothes and had sex."

"John, you are not in the least amusing," she sternly scolded. She moved but he held her close to him, pressing her rear against his crotch. He ran his mouth along her cheek, down her throat.

"I could always return the favor," he intoned low, hand sliding down between her legs. Felt her dampness. She caught his fingers but not before he elicited a soft moan from her, a subtle stroke creating a wave of arousal. She pulled his hand back to her waist.

"No."

"We did it for science, Moira, pure and simple. Well...as pure as we could, since we didn't actually achieve penetration."

"John! Shut up!" She elbowed his stomach.

"Ow!"

"According to the scanner Ford hasn't moved from his previous position."

"Wish I could say the same," he ruefully commented. "What a sweet twenty that–"

"John!" She elbowed him again but he caught her, pulled her onto her back and moved over her. He kissed her lengthily, causing her to murmur, to shift under him, both welcoming and protesting all at once.

"I honestly don't know what to make of you, Moira O'Meara. But I do intend to explore you thoroughly." He smiled, rolled off her and laid with his back to her. "Get some sleep. We can't track Ford in the dark. At first light we'll catch him. Give me the bio-scanner. I'll keep an eye on him."

Moira was still reeling from the kiss. Wordlessly she handed it over to him.

He took it, set it near him as he cushioned his head on his bent arm. "Get some sleep," he repeated. "We'll be off this planet by morning. With Ford," he added firmly. "I can't even remember why we came here in the first place," he commented, finding the silence disturbing. Better to talk than to dwell on what just occurred, what could still occur. "I've been looking for that moss as we went, but I didn't see it anywhere. Ford must have headed back to where he found it. Don't you worry, I'm not going to eat any of it. That is, unless I absolutely have to eat it. I don't like the side effects, well, except for the increased...um..." he caught himself. "Anyway, don't you worry." He switched topics rapidly, lest he anger her, upset her, or arouse them both. "We'll be fine now, Moira, just fine."

He chanced a look over his shoulder. Moira was curled on her side away from him, clutching the pack under her head as a pillow. His eye could not help but follow the curves of her body, the slight way her rear was jutting out as her knees slightly bent. Chiding himself he rolled onto his back, folded his arms under his head and stared up at the myriad of stars.

.


	4. Chapter 4

Natural Selection4

Allara looked up from her kneeling position to see Carson crossing to the cell. Two marines stood behind him, guns at the ready. Carson held a syringe with a very long needle. "All right now. This will hurt just a little," he advised.

"What is that? Poison?" Her eyes shifted to Ronon as he entered the room, stood in the shadows. "He wants to kill me!"

Carson glanced over his shoulder to see the grim Satedan. Looked back at the woman. "Yes, he does," the doctor agreed, "so if you would prefer to avoid death then I suggest you cooperate. I need to sedate you to obtain some samples of your bloodwork."

"Why? So you could release some vile pathogen into my system? So you can find a way to eradicate the runners who serve the Wraith? Some kind of bio-chemical alteration? You would use this for your own ends?

Carson stared, stunned. "You...you were a doctor?" he asked, glanced at Ronon.

"Yes," she hissed, drawing his gaze back to her. "I am a scientist. Except, unlike you, I have realized the Wraith are a superior, inevitable species. The final evolution of the–"

Ronon snarled in derision, cutting off her ranting.. "Superior? They prey on humans! They devastate whole worlds!"

"They keep the populations in check! They have superior technology and knowledge and–"

"Because they keep us from developing!" Ronon nearly shouted, striding out of the shadows. Even the marines tightened their hold on their weapons.

"They are superior," she reiterated calmly. "They are the final step in the evolution of the human species. They control our populations so we don't overrun the galaxy with our spawn."

"But they are not human," Carson tried to reason. "Only half."

"Which makes them all the more superior." Allara derisively eyed the doctor. "Look at you. A weak human, living here in a palace of the Ancestors, yet you know nothing. If the Wraith controlled this place think of the marvels they could achieve!"

"That will never happen," Carson assured, appalled at the very thought.

"The only marvel they would accomplish is the enslavement of the galaxy. Feeding off humans and destroying worlds. Except for your kind," Ronon nearly spat, disgusted. "You could thrive here under their rule. Betraying your own kind! For what? For what?"

Allara smiled, a weird, fanatical gleam in her blue eyes. "The end of days is upon us. For what marvels will we witness when the chosen ones establish their rule over all the worlds. The rings of the Ancestors will be their altars. The Ancient cities will be their temples once they achieve the Ancient power. The backward humans will be the food of the gods, serving them in all ways, in all means."

"That sounds like scripture," Carson noted uneasily. "Scripture of a sick cult."

"I've heard enough." Ronon spun his gun out of its holster, pointed it at the woman. "Get your samples, doc. And make it hurt," he added with a deadly smile.

Allara returned the smile. Stood. "I pity you. None of you will see the final paradise, where Wraith and human merge, become one. You will all be culled, your miserable lives spent in servitude, then a slow, agonizing death."

"Whatever," Ronon dismissed. "Doc?"

"Right." Carson was riveted. The sight of such ugliness coming out of the beautiful woman held him. Her scientific knowledge tainted by hateful fanaticism. He released the force field, cautiously approached. "Now, I just need to sedate you. Then we will set you free to–"

"I will never betray my masters. And they will revenge my death." She stood stock still as Carson stepped closer, needle poised like a sword. Then she spun. Carson managed to jab the needle into her arm but then was flung to the floor. The marines fired, but their bullets went wide of the spinning target who abruptly launched herself into flight over their heads, out of the cell.

Ronon fired, fired. Fired again. Allara screamed, fell with a lifeless thud at last to the floor.

Carson scrambled to his feet, ran out of the cell. "Ronon! Did you kill her?" Seeing the still form, the large holes blasted in the torso, the neck twisted at an odd angle he had his answer.

Ronon holstered his gun. "What did you expect, doc?" He loomed over the body. He kicked the woman with his boot, making certain. "Take all the samples you want, doc," he grimly offered.

*************************************************************************

Moira stirred, rolled. She reached out for the warm body that had been next to her. Found nothing. She woke fully, sat quickly. The clearing was a glorious green, shining with emerald light as the sun broke through the trees. "John? John?" she called, fearing he had left her. Left her like he had before on their first mission.

"Here, Moira," John called, stepping out of the shaded trees. "Get a bite to eat and we'll be on our way." He was holding the bio-scanner, frowning.

Moira relaxed at the sight of him, the normalness of his voice, demeanor. She nibbled on half of the ration bar that was left. That he had consumed the other half reassured her. She sipped some water, then grabbed both packs.

Wordlessly John joined her, took his pack and slung it over his shoulder. "This way." He gave a cursory glance to her injured foot, turned. Began to lead her towards the lake.

"John? Aren't we going the wrong way?" she asked. "Ford went that way." She pointed towards the trees behind them.

"Not any more. He's doubled back on us. He may have even passed us during the night."

"What?" She glanced round. Creepy shivers coursed up her back. She circled round, looking at the trees.

"But I doubt it, considering," he continued, following a trail back the way they had come, knocking foliage aside with his free hand. Keeping his thoughts on the task ahead, his tone professional, almost detached.

"Considering?" she asked, following on his heels.

"Considering we are still alive. And not in some damn cave. This way. There's a path circumventing the waterfall."

Moira followed him, puzzled but reassured by his serious demeanor. She glanced at the foliage, recognized no moss among the ferns and grasses. Bright blue lichen climbed along the rocks. Suddenly his steps became quicker. She followed, brushing past hanging vines, past blooming flowers of red, of pink. "John? John?" She broke into an awkward run as he sprinted down the pathway, pack flying behind him.

John cursed and cursed, berating himself over and over as he ran through the ferns. Brushing branches and vines out of his way he leapt over a fallen log. Nimbly he skirted round a giant boulder crawling with blue lichen. He dashed past the emerald pool, into the clearing. "Damn it! Damn it, damn it!" he shouted. Furious.

Moira darted from the jungle growth, skirted the pool. She reached the clearing, reduced again to a limp. The empty clearing. John was circling round the space where the Jumper had been. The empty space. Still cursing he angrily kicked at the flattened grass, glared at the turquoise sky filling with light.

John took a deep breath to calm himself, to think rationally. He strode to Moira who was watching him warily, hands at her sides. "Now he's really pissed me off! First he takes my lunch, and now he takes my ship." His words produced a quick smile from her. He sighed, ran a hand through his messy hair. "All right. We can always return through the 'Gate, but on foot it will take three or four days with that arduous climb." He glanced down at her injured foot, noticed she kept her weight off it. "If a rescue Jumper is on the way it will take a while to find us, given our current twenty and the search parameters."

Moira stared, uncertain. "What?"

He was still studying her foot, encased in the now dirty, torn orthopedic shoe. Part of her sock could be seen, a colorful splash of green and purple that made him smile. "Given our current location several klicks from the 'Gate, not to mention beneath it. The search parameters will be hampered by this planet's uneven geography."

"Oh." She sighed, held out her hand. "Give me your pack, then."

"What?" He met her resigned gaze.

"Give me your pack. You know what this means. You'll move much faster on your own. Leave me behind and go get help. Go to the 'Gate and contact–"

"No." He took her hand into his. "I'm not leaving you behind again. Ever."

"John, it's the only way. Look, there are no natural predators here. I'm not feverish. It makes perfect sense. A few hours here alone will be–"

"No. Remember the last time? That was supposed to be a few minutes, and you ended up stranded off-world for days, injured, feverish, in danger from all manner of–"

"A day," she softly emended, touched at his concern. The gravity in his brilliant green eyes. "This is different, John. Go. I'll be fine."

"No. Not with Ford and those cave creatures. Remember them? Besides," he added with a smile, "we need to find Ford's ship first."

"How do you know he came by ship?"

"It makes sense." He freed her hand to fiddle with the bio-scanner. "I haven't seen any of that moss, have you? It would be easier to search this planet by ship than by foot. Since he needs the enzyme he must have a ship, to track the Wraith, or to have a synthesized supply. It must be near here. This is where he came upon us, right?" He scanned the air with the Ancient device.

Moira looked round, remembering that encounter. The strawberry. The kiss. The innocence compared to their more sensual encounter last night. She chewed her lower lip, staring at the surrounding lush greenery. At the cascading waterfalls. At the emerald pool. At the crystalline shimmers in the rocks.

John was staring at her, distracting by the motion of her mouth, her lips. By the soft, soft sound she made, eyes narrowing in serious thought. She freed her lip, turning round to view the waterfalls and cliffs behind them. Whirled back suddenly as his gaze inevitably lowered, but quickly rose to meet hers. He smiled. She frowned. "This way." He headed across the clearing. She followed. "I've re-calibrated the scanner to detect any large absences of life. Like where a ship could be parked creating a void in the readings. It's here. It's close. With any luck it's even operational."

"Clever," she remarked to his back, following. Letting her eyes gaze wantonly on the way his body moved under the damp clothing. The muscles of back, arms, legs. The empty knife holster hanging just over his rear. His rear hugged nicely in the damp pants.

"Wait here." Through a tangled vine John could discern the outlines of a large object buried under heaps of torn greenery. He began to immediately tear away the vines, the leaves. Revealing an ungainly ship. A strange-looking vessel, almost shaped like a triangle, with two lower cannons. A cracked viewport revealed two seats and a dilapidated cabin. With not much room behind it. Finding the hatch John pried the lock. It slowly opened, stalled, opened fully.

He peered inside, keeping his body flat against the ship, listening. Satisfied he gestured towards Moira.

Moira was eying the ship, but her gaze was drawn to John. His careful, silent movements around the ship. His strength prying the hatch open. His body pressed to the ship, back against it. The lean length of him in the clingy black clothes. Recalling the feel of his body on hers she studied him head to foot and back again. Saw his hand gesture and smirked at her amorous examination.

"Are you coming?" John asked, meeting her gaze, impatient. Brows furrowing at her expression of suppressed hilarity at his words. Her intense gaze before it moved to the ship.

"Can you fly this thing?" she asked, limping towards the unkempt, hodgepodge ship.

He smiled. "Sweetheart, I can fly anything. Come on." He entered the vehicle.

She shook her head, rolled her eyes at his tone, followed. He slammed the hatch shut as she seated herself in the co-pilot's chair. She dropped her pack onto the floor, stared at the dials, the exposed wires.

John dropped his pack next to hers, slid smoothly into the pilot's seat. "No weapons onboard. No food. Bastard did eat our sandwiches," he sulked. There is some moss, however. All right, keep your fingers crossed." He flipped switches. "Watch this," he boasted as the ship powered up with a shaking hum. Powered down with a painful whine. Another shake. Something clanked in the back.

"Watch what?" she asked, sighing.

He hit the console with his fist. Met her gaze. "I think we're in trouble," he jested. Smiled as she did. Then he leaned over, under the console. "Ah...here...failsafe...or it just fell loose. Ow!"

A spark. He sat up, throttled controls. A surge of power rumbled the vessel. It shook, shook, then hummed. "Initializing full power. There...we have weapons, cool. No cloaking device. Maybe a shield..."

"Are you sure you can fly this thing?" she repeated, but the vehicle lifted off the ground. Albeit in a shaking judder.

"It's low-tech compared to the Jumper but we do have scanners. Keep an eye here," he tapped a circular blue screen. A light swept across it. "Any other ship will show up on that. Hold on. The inertial dampeners aren't as sophisticated as those on my ship." The vessel veered to the right, dipped low, but John brought it under control again.

"I noticed," she remarked as the ship shook again. Higher and higher they flew. Over the emerald pool. John turned the vehicle towards the waterfalls. "Can we make that?"

"I hope so," he said. The vehicle thrust forward, towards the largest waterfall. Into the water which rained down like gunfire on the haphazard plating. Into the cave. Plunged into darkness John flew on pure instinct, recollection. A wing scraped the cave wall. He tilted the ship slightly to compensate. Moira leaned to one side in her seat, as her belt gave way with a pop.

Abruptly they zoomed into the light. Picking up speed John flew higher, towards the cliff face. "I'll have to set down to dial the DHD then my–"

"Someone's here! On the screen!" Moira exclaimed. Then a Jumper flew into view. "Is that the rescue–"

The firing missiles answered her question. John swore, swerved, avoiding most of the fire. He punched the shields. Dimly they flickered. "Crap. Half-power only. Where the hell did Ford get this piece of junk? Hold on! I'll have to out-fly him."

"What? In this? Can you?" she asked, grabbing hold of the chair's bottom edge to avoid falling into his lap as the ship swerved again.

"Hey...it's me," he said, meeting her gaze. He flashed a grin, then grabbed another control. "Firing now. Crap, I hate to hit my own ship," he sighed.

The weapon's red laser clipped the Jumper's right pod, but Aiden flew around them smoothly. And fired.

"Crap, he has the better weapons too," John commented.

"He's firing again!" she warned.

"I noticed," he laconically stated. He threw the ship downwards, diving, diving. "Brace yourself, Moira. We're going down." He smiled suddenly, gaze glancing to slide over her.

"Down? You mean we're crashing? What?" she exclaimed at his oddly sensual perusal before he resumed attention on the controls. "John?"

They flew past the Stargate, down another sheer precipice past caves and waterfalls. Deeper. Deeper. Aiden followed, firing. A couple hits toggled the craft but John kept it steady. "Crap. I'm flying blind now." He banged a fist on the readout, but it remained blank. "How's the shielding?" He pointed, keeping his gaze on the increasingly nearer ground.

"Fifty percent. Thirty..." She watched the screen dim, flicker, the coverage growing smaller.

John yanked on the controls, pulling the vehicle up at the last possible second. Then nearly flipping it over as he turned to get behind Aiden. "I'm sorry, baby," he said sincerely to the ship. Fired on the Jumper.

Explosions rippled on the Jumper, but it's shields held. Aiden raised the vehicle. Disappeared.

"Oh oh," John remarked.

"He's cloaked!" Moira needlessly observed. "How are we going to find him?" She tapped the sensor array. "There's no trace of him. Shield is twenty percent, fifteen. John?" She looked at him. His expression was intent, thoughtful. Eyes narrowed.

"Watch and learn, sweetheart." He licked his lips, swerved the ship again. Falling towards the canyons and waterfalls.

The leisurely pace worried Moira. "John?"

"He won't risk firing on us. Not yet. It would reveal his twenty, oh, his position," he translated. "All the same..." He flipped switches, checked dials. "All of the shields are on our six, um, our tail now. Let's see..." He searched the canyons, swerving, dodging as the rocks grew higher, the canyons narrower.

"How do you know he's still there? Maybe he went back to the Stargate," she reasoned.

"No, he's still here," he commented. "Ah."

"Ah? What?" She peered out the viewport. Saw waterfalls. Caves. Approaching rocks.

"Hold on tight. Really, really tight, Moira," he advised. Smirked. "Clench tightly and hold on as hard as you can."

"What? What the...you...what are you..." she spluttered, hearing the sensual undertone, seeing his smirk. Her sentence was lost in a gasp as he plummeted the craft. Rapidly they lost altitude and height.

"Down, down, deep and fast," he commented lewdly, trying not to laugh at his own sexual thoughts, at her evident confusion and suspicion.

Aiden immediately fired. Several shots hit the rocks. Debris flew. Hit the water. Spray showered the vehicle. The shield flowed, crackled. An impact on the side sent the ship lurching violently to the right.

John rolled with the hit, using the added momentum to fall. He fired into the cliff face. Rocks flew. Crystal shards shone, shattered. Creating a blinding debris field of rubble and light. John flew straight into the mess, flew up, up and abruptly reversed, spinning the ship so fast Moira nearly lost her meager breakfast. He reversed into the water. The liquid rattled noisily on the ship, spewing steam. John eased backwards into a cave that was barely wide enough to accommodate the vehicle.

He set it down carefully, cut all power, all dim lights, all sounds. Waited. Hand hovering over the controls, he waited. The water fell thunderously in front of them. "Well?" he asked, keen gaze trained on the mouth of the cave.

"Impressive," she said around a dry mouth. She unclenched her hands from the seat, straightened. "Now what?"

"We wait. See?" He pointed. A strange waver through the curtain of water hovered, then was gone. Debris trailed in its wake. "He is partially visible now. Hunting us. So we wait him out. Hit him when the time is right. Take him down, retrieve my ship and go home. Simple."

"Simple," she echoed, dubious.

John stretched his arms over his head, shifted in the chair. "We have a little time to relax. Anything left to eat?" he asked, sounding bored.

She smiled. "Afraid not."

"I'd kill for a beer right now," he remarked dryly. "You?"

"Lemonade. With ice. Lots of ice."

"Ah."

"Ah again? Oh no," she lamented.

His fingers barely touched the controls. "Hold on. Really, really tight," he advised.

She sighed, clasped the chair with both hands, braced her legs in front of it. Felt muscles tense with the effort. "Okay.

"Do you prefer regular lemonade or pink?" he asked lazily, then grabbed the controls. The ship hummed to life. Shook. Lights flickered. The vehicle slowly rose. Rocks fell. "Moira?" he prompted.

"What?" she asked, incredulous. She could see the wavering motion of Aiden's stolen Jumper again. Close. Too close. Its nose breached the curtain of water. Rocks and crystal shards bounced harmlessly off it.

"Pink or yellow?" John asked calmly. He waited. Waited. Willed Aiden closer. Closer.

"What?"she repeated, tensing as the Jumper's nose extended past the water. The viewport was almost visible as the ship de-cloaked to shield.

"Pink or yellow? It's a simple question, Moira," he patiently repeated.

"P...p...pink," she stammered as the viewport was visible. Aiden at the controls. His startled expression. Mad scramble of the console.

John smiled. Was quicker. Fired mercilessly into the viewport and the pod drives below the ship. Explosions ruptured, fired. The Jumper lurched, reversing. John zoomed forward as rocks and crystals shattered around them, threatening to bury them alive. Water spewed as he flew through the waterfall, then descended, firing, firing after the falling ship. The Jumper was still flying but listing to one side. Spiraling in a weird descent. Its shields flickered as it hit the pool of water hard. An enormous splash vomited from the pool.

"John!" she shouted, but he pulled up in time so the water merely skimmed the belly of their ship. He circled, flew to solid ground back from the lake, set the ship down. "Aren't we going to the 'Gate?" she asked breathlessly.

"Not yet. I want my ship back," he cooly explained. "I don't like how this one handles."

She met his serious gaze, disbelieving. She shook her head. "How–"

He smiled, unbuckled. "See?" He pointed. The Jumper rose unsteadily out of the water. It skimmed the surface, landed a few feet from them on the bank of the lake. Sparks flew. The shield flickered like a shadow.

"John?" she asked at his movement. She grabbed his arm as he stood. "You can't!"

"Grab the bio-scanner. It's all we need."

"But you don't have any weapons!" she argued, snatching the scanner from the pack. She grabbed his arm again, hastening after him. "What are you going to do? Waltz up to the hatch, knock and politely request he return your ship?" she demanded.

"No. Don't be ridiculous, Moira. I'm going to walk. But yeah, that's about it. Except for the politeness part," he amended.

"John!" she exclaimed, exasperated. She stood in front of the hatch, blocking him. "I won't let you do this! You're obviously not thinking clearly!"

He smiled. "And how are you going to stop me, Moira?" he asked evenly.

She frowned. "John, I'm serious. You can't do this! You're no match for Ford! He's probably dosed on the enzyme now and has all of the weapons!"

"Strawberries," he said quietly, gaze moving past her a fraction. Light was pooling at the bottom of the hatch, a thin line that had not been there.

"What? John! John Sheppard, listen to me, you son of a bitch! I won't let you–"

He pulled her into his arms, kissed her suddenly as the hatch opened from the outside. He pushed her against the wall, fingers sliding around a long, metal tube without breaking the passionate kiss. He whirled in front of her, swinging the tube with all of his might. It clanged against the barrel of a P90, crashing it to the ground. John leapt out of the hatchway, crashing into Aiden. "Moira! Ship! Run!" he shouted, grappling with Aiden to reach the gun.

Moira snapped out of stunned surprise, darted out and ran towards the Jumper.

John regretted the lack of enzyme as Aiden swung into him, knocking him backwards. John circled, but Aiden hit him again, knocking him against the ramp. Just as John had planned. He rolled with the punch, tasting blood, but grabbed the P90. He leapt to his feet. Pointed it at Aiden, finger on the trigger. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you now!"

Aiden froze. Raised his empty hands. "Sheppard. The moss. You ate more, didn't you? It's toxic! Highly toxic! I found out the hard way. I can take it in limited doses but you? You won't last a day!"

"Don't worry about me. It's been handled," John assured. Flicked a glance towards the Jumper. Moira had reached it, had lurched into the ship. The Jumper hummed to life at her touch, but sputtered.

"The ship's toast, Sheppard. You shot me down!" Aiden accused, as if genuinely outraged.

"You were trying to shoot me down, lieutenant," John argued. "You're sick, Aiden! You need help. You can't carry on like this."

"Can't I? You'll become one of us, sir, that is if the toxic affects don't kill you first."

"Us?" John questioned.

"You'll be even worse, more mutated by the moss. Even now it is in your system. Can't you feel it, sir?"

"I told you, we took care of that," John repeated. Yet he did feel a surging adrenalin, different from the last time, somehow more insidious since his mind was clear. "If you come peacefully back with me now we can help you."

"Back with you?" Aiden snorted. "You should come with me!" He warmed to his words. "Join me, colonel! You and me, on the moss, if you survive, we would be unstoppable! We could take down any Wraith! Even a whole hive ship!"

"Yeah, that went so well the last time," John acerbically noted.

"This time will be different!" Aiden insisted. "I have a better team. No extra baggage. No damn scientists! Unless you insist on bringing her. She might be good for something." He smiled.

John scowled. "Do you really want to antagonize the guy holding the gun? Come back with me peacefully and we will do everything we can to help you, lieutenant."

"No! No, they'll never accept me. I'm better now! Better than I have ever been. Join me!"

John shook his head. "I'll never join you, Ford. I don't feel like conquering the galaxy today."

"Then I guess I'll have to go." Aiden sighed, genuinely disappointed. "In my ship. Yours is shot to hell, Sheppard. You'll never make it off this rock. Even the dialing device is inactive."

"I can fix it. On your knees. We'll wait for a rescue Jumper and you can tell me all about your new team. Either way you are coming back to Atlantis."

"I don't think so, sir!" Aiden rushed.

John shot him. Repeatedly. Until he was knocked aside. He fell to the ground hard, rolled as Aiden flew past him into the ship. The hatch slammed shut. A tile fell off the haphazard vehicle's side.

"John!" Moira shouted, standing on the ramp of the Jumper. "We've got contact! Evan!"

John stood, grabbing the P90. The ugly ship was powering up, shaking and humming. John raced to the Jumper, to the console past Moira. "Major!" he barked into the comm unit. "Major, this is Sheppard! Stop that ship! Stop that ship at all costs! Copy?"

"Yes, sir!" Evan's voice crackled over the radio.

"He's leaving. Ford," she clarified. John joined her, watched the ship rise, veer wildly, then fly into the canyons.

Deciding John returned to the console. "Major! Belay that last order. Return here. Copy?"

"Copy that, sir. Returning."

Moira walked over to John, touched his arm. "You're letting him go?"

He met her gaze. "The last thing we need is another dogfight. And I don't trust either ship of handle those canyons they way we did. Besides, we need to salvage parts of that Jumper to fix this one."

She smiled. "You mean they can't fly a ship like you can."

He smiled. "And that. Ow!" He touched the corner of his mouth. She turned to the back seat, produced a wet cloth, held it to his bloody lip. He pressed her hand there, fingers moving over hers. The gentlest of caresses. Their gazes held.

"Sir? If you don't mind me asking, why did you come here?" Evan's voice broke off the oddly intimate moment. Moira withdrew her hand, fingers slipping from his.

John pulled back the cloth to respond to the radio. "I haven't a clue, major. Moira, why did we come here again?" Quietly he added, "Besides the strawberries."

She smiled, then frowned. "Damn! The plants! The plants!" She hastened to the Jumper's rear, knelt. "Good! There are some here, but we need more! I have to get some samples for Doctor Parrish! And for Carson!"

John's gaze lingered as she knelt, leaned over to bag the moss spread on the floor. Her hips shifted, the pants clinging. Her long ponytail snaking down her back. John felt a rush of desire, forced himself to stare at the wall across from him. He moved out of the Jumper, eyes on the sky for the second Jumper.

"Can you fix this?" Moira had come to stand beside him.

"What? Oh, yes, I think so. I can cobble enough spare parts to make it work. To get us back to Atlantis." He paused. "Unless you would rather return with Lorne."

She glanced at him, wondered at his odd remark, his odd tone. "No. I'll wait here with you. Besides, I can gather more samples. I saw the moss over there," she pointed vaguely towards the lake, "and I can gather other vegetation as well."

"Don't wander too far," he warned, as the second Jumper appeared in the blue sky. Drifted down to a smooth landing. It disgorged a complement of marines. Evan approached, looking around the greenery. "Did the other ship go through the 'Gate?"

"Yes, sir," Evan answered. "Who was–"

"Ford."

"Ford! Sir, what–"

"Later, major. Deploy your men in a perimeter sweep. I don't expect any trouble but just in case let's look around. I'll need to pirate some crystals and cables from your ship."

"Of course, sir. Where's Moira?"

"Collecting samples. No," he ordered before Evan could pursue her. "I need you to help me with this. Why didn't you bring McKay? Or Zelenka?"

"Doctor Weir just ordered a rescue mission, sir. I think someone should be with Moira."

"No. She'll be fine. She won't wander too far."

"All the same, sir, I think that–"

"I said no," John stated firmly. "The sooner I can fix this Jumper the sooner we can all go home. I'm not losing another ship." He wondered at his strange reluctance to let Evan go to Moira, dismissed it. "Come on. Grab the tool kit."

Moira stopped, carefully collected another fern. Filling her pack with plastic bags of vegetation she stepped gingerly around the emerald pool. She glanced at the two ships, the marines keeping casual watch. Satisfied she knelt on the bank of the pool.

She scooped the moss out of the mud. Studied the spongy leaves, the tiny flowers. Recalled its affects on John. She sealed the bag, dropped it into her pack. Stood, lost in thought. Did not see the creature in the shadowed trees before she heard the snuffling.

Startled she turned, foot slipping into the water. She pulled her now soaking shoe out of the emerald pool, looked up to see eyes gleaming in the shadows. Several pairs in the undergrowth. She stared back at them, recognizing the gaunt faces, the skeletal outlines. The grunts had faded once she stepped past the moss onto drier, firmer land.

"Moira?"

A hand on her shoulder nearly made her jump. She whirled, knocking her pack into a man's stomach. "Evan! Sorry! You startled me."

"Are you all right?" He touched her cheek where a bruise was visible. "What happened to you?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine, really." She caught his hand, lowered it. "Our little run-in with Ford, that's all," she explained. "I'm glad you're here, Evan. Look." She turned. "At the trees."

He stepped closer, peering into the green gloom. "What? I don't see anything."

"Look, you...oh." She stared. The creatures were gone. Or at least unseen. "I saw...there was something in there. Several...creatures." She started to head for the trees. "We need to find them, Evan. I don't believe they will harm us."

"No, we don't," Evan said, caught her arm, pulling her gently back. "You need to see Carson, Moira. You are hurt."

She turned to him. "No, I told you, I'm fine. We need–"

"Good, but Carson needs to see you. He's found a new source of the protein that Ronon carries. A natural one."

"What? I've found a new source of the enzyme...it's original source. These plants–"

"Major Lorne!" Both jumped at the commanding voice, separated. John glared, bearing down on them. "Didn't I tell you that Moira was fine on her own?"

"Yes, sir, but I–"

"Do you think I would allow her to gather her precious samples if there was even the slightest chance of harm coming her way?"

"No, sir, but I–"

"I've got the alignment cabled. Go back to your ship and we can test the drives. Now."

"Yes, sir." Evan shot Moira a perplexed glance, hastened to his ship.

Moira slung her pack on her other shoulder. "John, what the–"

"Get enough samples?" he asked, gaze moving past her to the trees. His green eyes narrowed. His hand slid towards the holster on his thigh.

She turned too, stared. The creatures were back, eyes gleaming golden. "They weren't there a minute ago, but before..." She slowly turned to him. "How could you see them? John?"

He blinked, met her gaze. Took the pack from her shoulder. "Come on. I don't know about you but I am ready to get off this rock." Without waiting for her reply he strode round the emerald pool to his ship. Moira followed silently.

Once they had reached the ship Moira took the pack from him, set it inside. She watched him as he stood on the ramp. "How are the repairs?"

"We'll be out of here in a minute, Moira."

"That quickly?"

"Are you disappointed?" he asked. Turned to meet her gaze. Assessing.

"No. I mean yes...I mean...I...how are you feeling, John?" She stepped to him, touched his arm, studying his handsome face. "You've been through far worse than I have."

"Yes, I have," he agreed. "Far worse." He caught her hand before she could withdraw it. "But not all of it was unpleasant."

She pulled her hand from his. "You could still be suffering from residual affects of the enzyme. Are you sure you are feeling better? Ever since Evan showed up you have been...tense..." Her words trailed into embarrassed silence as realization hit.

"I am suffering, Moira. Hmm...why would I be tense? Do I seem tense to you?" he asked, closing the hatch. "Shall I tell you?"

"John?" She backed up a step but he followed her, trapped her against the wall. He placed his palm on the panel, effectively blocking her. He tapped his earpiece.

"All right. I'm testing the pod release. Stand back." He stepped closer to Moira, flipped down another panel and tapped a command on the keyboard. "It's all about release, Moira," he explained, gaze moving to her puzzled, suspicious one. "Release of pent-up energy. Thwarted operational parameters." He tapped the earpiece again. "Report."

"It's working, sir. Pods are fully extended. Both sides."

"You see? Retracting now, major." He tapped the keyboard, issuing the command.

"John? I don't understand," she complained, unable to move, blocked by his proximity. She could almost feel the heat from his body. Tension in every long, lean line. His voice was low, a sexy rasp to it making her react despite herself. He licked his lips slowly.

"I just explained it to you, Moira. Don't tell me you don't feel it too. I can see it in your eyes. The way you watch me. The way you move. The way you walk as if those tight, tight khaki pants were too confining, too probing to–"

"Fully retracted, sir," Evan's voice broke over the radio, into John's nearly husky accusations.

Moira blinked as if awakening from a spell.

John smiled. "Very good. I'll prep for flight. Get your team back on the ship. We will follow you back to Atlantis. Sheppard out." He tapped the earpiece again. "Release, Moira. You've explained the necessity of it yourself."

"For the, the enzyme, John," she retorted, blushing. Reacting to his provocations, "through physical exertion."

"It's not enough. Not nearly enough. You know that." He turned suddenly, strode to the pilot's seat. "Strap in. This may be a bumpy ride but we'll make it back." He settled into the seat, finding it much more comfortable than Aiden's ship. He brought the controls to life. The ship hummed quietly, powered smoothly. He looked over his shoulder. "Moira!"

She was staring at him, lips parted, brown eyes wide with a variety of emotions. She joined him. "I don't understand you, John. Are you sure you are feeling all right? You are going straight to the infirmary when we get home."

"I don't need a doctor. I need to have–"

"All systems a go, sir. Are you–"

"I'm fine!" John snapped, bringing the Jumper off the ground. "Go now." He switched off the comm unit.

Moira stared at him. "John? What's wrong? It must be the enzyme. Residual affects, unless you still have some latent...no...I can check the bio-scanner but you were reading as human."

"There's nothing wrong with me, Moira, except tension. Sexual tension." He laughed, a harsh sound. "How the hell am I going to write up this mission report? It will read like a pornographic novel, nearly so."

She winced, stared out the viewport. The Jumper rattled, but flew under his capable hands. "I hadn't thought of that."

"What are you going to put in yours?" he asked.

"I don't know. Nobody ever reads mine," she admitted.

"They will now. Especially after reading mine," he added, smiling wickedly at her. She stared, distraught. "Let me see...how shall I put it?" he continued, almost with savage glee. "The way you opened your thighs and gave me a lap dance to beat all lap dances...riding me so thoroughly you gave yourself a mini-orgasm, no a few, as I recall–"

"John Sheppard! That's enough!" she snapped, embarrassed. Aroused. "It must be the enzyme impairing your judgment again," she reasoned. "You're like a walking, talking piece of pure testosterone."

"It's not my judgement that's impaired. Go lower," he scolded. "And there is nothing pure about me, sweetheart. Or you, for that matter. My luscious Moira...wow...I'm getting off just thinking about our simulated sexual–"

"I'm sorry, John," she apologized. She leaned over to him, soundly slapped him. Hit his sore jaw with a wallop. "Focus!"

"Ow!" He relaxed his grip on the controls. Seemed to shake himself. "Moira? Did I just say what I think I just said? Out loud? To you? Dammit, I am sorry!"

"Just fly us home, John," she replied. "Don't talk. Just fly."


	5. Chapter 5

Natural Selection5

"Extraordinary," Moira mused, peering through the microscope. "Are you certain about this?" she asked, shaking her head.

The botanist nodded as he stood next to her, slicing a piece of the moss apart with a scalpel. "Yes. The flower holds the most potent secretions. The enzyme breaks down much slower on the slides. See? Moira? Is that important?" he asked, alarmed at her expression.

"Yes. Excuse me." Moira hastened out of the biology lab to the infirmary. She paused, seeing rows of empty beds. "Carson? Carson!"

The doctor emerged from an alcove, smiled. "Ah, Moira. What is it? Is your foot–"

"No! Where's John? I mean, where's Colonel Sheppard?" She limped to the doctor. "You have to see this!" She held out a slide.

Carson smiled at her chagrin over the name, replied, "I've released him." He took the slide. "From the moss? I've already had a preliminary–"

"You released him? How could you?"

"What? The colonel only suffered minor bruises and cuts, that is all. You, on the other hand, need to see me about that foot of yours."

"Carson! He was on the enzyme! Didn't he tell you? He got ride of most of it but I think he may still be infected. Look at the slide, please! It's the flowers!"

Carson scrutinized her. He slid the specimen under the microscope. "He never told me that. Not a word. He seemed perfectly all right." Frowning he peered at the slide. "The flowers, you said. Not the moss. The secretion levels are nearly doubled, compared to the leaves." He placed a drop of blood onto the slide. Watched the reaction. "Hmm. Slower penetration, they arenot breaking up as swiftly as the other sample either." He lifted his gaze to her. "How much did John ingest?"

"A lot. Two big mouthfuls of the moss, but most of it came up afterwards. After an, um, an adrenalin surge."

"And the flowers?"

"I...I don't know. I can't be certain. The flowers are so tiny, and it was dark when he ate them. He's been acting...off, a bit, a little, Carson, I think–"

Carson was already activating the comm. "Colonel Sheppard, report to the infirmary. Colonel Sheppard, report to the infirmary now!" He tapped his earpiece. "Doctor Weir, I think it would be advisable to have some marines escort Colonel Sheppard to the infirmary. He's possibly infected with the enzyme." He turned to Moira, but she was gone.

Moira awkwardly ran out of the medical bay, halted, not certain where to go. Several possibilities came and went. Finally she hastened to the Jumper bay. Technicians were swarming over the damaged vehicle. "Evan!" Spotting him she joined him.

Evan was tapping his earpiece, gesturing to two other marines begin the search. "Copy. Moira?"

"We have to find Colonel Sheppard! Do you have any idea where he is?" She touched his arm. "He's very sick, Evan. We–"

"Sir?" Evan turned as John stepped out of the shadows. Swung a fist at Evan's jaw. The major fell hard, without a sound.

"Pleistocene Park!" he stated darkly. His gaze moved over Moira. Smiled. "Strawberries."

Moira sighed. "All right. Enough is enough! Come on!" She grabbed his hand, pulled him towards the hallway.

"Moira?" He glanced back at the sprawled form of Evan. Smiled with satisfaction. "What is happening to me?"

"Flowers, John." She pulled him into an alcove, full of tools, closed the door. "Flowers would have been nice. Hell, you haven't even bought me that drink yet. No, with you it's all or nothing! A rush to the finish line. Not that I'm complaining because it has been quite...anyway, flowers," she rambled, moving to activate the comm unit, "the enzyme that is affecting you was in the flowers, a more potent–"

He stopped her before she could reach the comm. Turned her to him. "Moira, what flowers?" He grimaced, then smiled. "That wasn't so bad."

"It's going to get a lot worse, John. We have to act fast."

"Are you going to hit me again?"

She smiled. "No. I am going to do the only thing I can." She kissed him, running her hands up his chest. Another kiss, as she plotted. "Medical necessity," she stated around his lips, eying him. "You know what that means, colonel?"

"Strawberries?" he asked.

"Strawberries? Sheppard, where are–" came the voice of Rodney over John's earpiece, sounding bewildered and irritated all at once.

"Shit!" Moira grabbed the communication device, switched it off and slipped it into his pocket. The last thing she needed was to be broadcasting this. "John, we need to get rid of the enzyme, fast. Do you know what that means?"

"I don't really care," he countered, pulling her into his arms.

"It means no simulation," she said, flinging her body against his. She slid against him, kissed him invitingly, wantonly as her mouth opened under his. "Real, unclothed sex," she whispered hotly into his ear. "I want you, John. I want you inside me. Here. Now," she breathlessly murmured against his skin. Trailing kisses down his throat. Felt the racing pulse. Her hands slid down to his waist, to his pants. To caress his abrupt erection. Felt the length and hardness.

John smiled. "What took you so long?" he countered gruffly. He pushed her back against the wall. His mouth caught hers as his hands slid up under her shirt, under her bra. Fondled both breasts as his tongue glided into her mouth.

Moira murmured, scooting slightly to the left, towards the comm unit. As if guessing her intention John pulled her back, far from the panel as he shoved his hands down her body. He tore the zipper of her pants down. Yanked her pants off her hips, down her legs. He fingered the lace band of her panties. "Lavender lace," he hotly intoned, fingers sliding into them, into the moist folds of her.

Moira nearly lost herself, squirming but grabbed his hand before he could completely distract her. She pulled him to her, kissed him passionately as John was already thrusting against her, only impeded by their clothes. His hands moved to grab but she caught them, shifted, shifted. Then shoved him back from her as he moaned. Moaned from pain as he doubled over, fell to his knees. She yanked up her pants, zipped them, scrambled to the comm unit and punched the buttons. "I need medical assistance! Jumper bay...in, in some tool room...um...room nine!" she shouted, seeing a number on the wall. She whirled, knelt to John as he was holding his stomach. "John, hold on!"

"Hold on? What the hell did you do to me?" he accused, so close to pleasure, to passion, but now doubled with cramps and gut-wrenching pain.

"Release, John. Isn't that what you said? It's all about release," she explained, enjoying just a little the revenge on his earlier teasing. Only a little as he appeared to be in real pain.

The door opened. A team of marines and Carson flooded into the little room. "He's having a reaction to the enzyme! His body's rejecting it, thank goodness!"

"Get him to medical!" Carson ordered. As the marines hoisted John to his feet and out of the room. John was groaning, still doubled over. The doctor eyed Moira. Her flushed face, disordered clothes. "Are you all right?"

"Me? I'm fine."

"Well, whatever you did probably just saved his life. The flood of adrenalin should destroy the last of the enzyme. Good work!"

She smiled, trying not to laugh. "I did what I had to do, Carson." Seeing his knowing look she hastily added, "I told him he was a lousy pilot. Works all the time with these macho military types, you know. Hadn't you better–

"Yes, I had better," he agreed, smiling. "Come see me about that foot."

**********************************************************************

John's head ached again. His jaw was sore. He touched it gingerly, shifting on the bed. His body felt stiff, drained. Memories flitted. Marines. Moira. Flowers. Punching Evan. The tool room. Moira. Moira's whispered seductions, her pants around her ankles. Panties so close to following. The feel of her breasts in his hands. He opened his eyes. The infirmary was a blurry brightness. He closed his eyes, tried again. Focus, but still too bright.

"Awake, are we, colonel?"

Carson's voice to the right. John turned his head, blinked. "Carson? I...oh..." He shifted again, running his hand down his body, feeling bruises, remembering arousal. He uneasily met the doctor's gaze. "Am I–"

"Yes. Thanks to Moira. You are one hundred percent free of the enzyme." He removed an IV, gave John a cup of water. "Here. You are dehydrated. What do you remember?"

"Not much." He drank greedily, set the cup aside to cover his embarrassment. Recalling all too clearly his state when he was taken out of the tool room. "I–"

"No one noticed anything, except your cramps. You were doubled over the whole time," Carson tactfully explained, but turned to hide his amusement at John's chagrin. "As I said, the enzyme is completely purged. Lucky for you your body rejected all of it, even the flowers."

"The flowers again?"

"Yes, the most potent part. Probably why you failed to mention any of this to me when you first returned from M1K436. Get some rest. I'm keeping you here under observation for a few more hours. Just to be absolutely certain." He looked at John, could not resist adding, "We can't have you tying up another storeroom for medical purposes, now can we?"

"Carson," John groaned, "nothing...I...nothing happened...Moira wasn't..." He sighed, laid back as a wave of soreness hit.

The doctor laughed. "I know, John. I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. Don't worry. Doctor patient privilege. Get some rest."

************************************************************************

Moira limped into the infirmary. Ventured towards the bed where John rested. Hesitated, veered back but Carson stood, blocking her. "Um...how is he?"

"Fine. Don't worry. He's clear. Let's look at that foot, shall we, love?"

"What?" She glanced down, as if forgetting about it. "It is only sore."

"Take off your shoe and sit there."

Moira sighed, sat on the bed next to John's. She watched him as she removed her shoe. He appeared asleep, handsome face in peaceful lines. Long lashes sweeping along his cheekbones. Slight cuts marred his skin. A bruise purpled one jaw. She removed her sock, met Carson's gaze. "It's fine. Just sore."

"I can imagine, love."

"Ow!"

"Sorry, Moira. Hold still," Carson chided, examining the foot.

John stirred at the voices. He opened his eyes. Turned to see Moira on the next bed, Carson bent over her foot. He stared at the long, vivid scars running up from her toes, crisscrossing to her ankle. Wide gashes were healing but still red, scabby. He let his gaze wander up her leg, up her bent knee, thigh. Up to her face as she winced with pain.

"Another cramp," she complained, "but otherwise it's fine. I can wiggle my toes and everything, Carson."

John smiled. Carson smiled. "Good to know, Moira. All right. It's still healing. You need to rest it. I mean really rest it. Stay on your back awhile."

Hearing a snort she looked at John who was grinning, trying not to laugh. She glared, hastily pulled on her sock, her shoe. "Thank you, Carson." Ignoring John she continued, "Have you given any thought to the flowers? The moss? What would feed on the flowers?"

"Insects would..." Realization. "Oh. Aye. Did you see any?"

"No. There was hardly any life there at all, apart from the vegetation."

"Any what?" John croaked, curious. He sat up, stubbornly ignored his headache.

"Your favorite thing, John," she replied with a smile, moving to her feet.

"Strawberries?" he teased quietly, unable to resist. Suddenly he glanced at Carson but the doctor had discreetly moved to a data screen. Seemed to be absorbed by whatever was blinking on the screen.

"No," she scolded, moving to the side of his bed. "The Iratus bug."

"Oh." He made a face. "Never mind."

Moira laughed. "You'll want to hear this. It's all about the Iratus bug and their genesis into the forms we–"

Carson shook his head. "All right, Moira, there's no need to antagonize the colonel. Did you save his life just to torture him?"

"She's very good at that, doc," John agreed, catching her hand before she could leave. "At times I was in agony..." he paused, lingering on the word, "with all of that scientific, biological rambling and lecturing."

"Which just saved your life, colonel," Carson chided, amused at their teasing flirtation.

"Is that so?" John asked.

She smiled. Her fingers entwined with his. "Yes. Don't forget, fly boy, you still owe me a very large drink, with all that I had to endure."

He laughed. "Endure? As I recall you quite enjoyed it. Besides," he added before she could protest, "I think we've gone way beyond a mere drink, haven't we?"

"Oh? A dinner, then?" she asked in amazement, ignoring his knowing look. He laughed. "Darn, I don't have anything fancy to wear, I'm afraid."

"As long as you have something...lavender, oh right, you do," he countered. "Ow!" he complained as she hit his arm. "Injured man, here."

"Then don't talk." She stepped closer, whispered, "Keep it in your pants, Sheppard. We're not on M1K436 any more," she teased.

He smiled, quietly responded, "That's all I have been doing, O'Meara, thanks to you."

She laughed, suddenly sobered, looking over at Carson who was assiduously studying the data screen. Back to them. Blithely ignoring them, or so she hoped. She squeezed his hand. "I better go. I have work to do."

"Tell me about it," he countered, detaining her.

"I can't, as it does involve the Iratus bug and its possible genesis deriving from the plants and their enzyme." She smiled. "Maybe later. Get some rest." She hesitated, uncertain. She freed his hand, limped out of the infirmary.

John smiled, watching her leave. He settled back, trying to get comfortable. His gaze drifted to Carson, and he frowned, concerned over what the doctor might have overheard. Might have noticed. Might have guessed. He debated, whether or not to say anything, but kept silent.

*************************************************************************

"Busy?"

Moira looked up from her data screen, fingers frozen on the keyboard. "Evan." She watched him stroll into the biology lab, stared at the bright bruise on his jaw. "How are you?"

"Sore. Let me tell you, Colonel Sheppard packs a wallop," he ruefully commented, sitting next to her. "What the hell was that about? Pleistocene Park? Am I missing something?"

She smiled. "No. Colonel Sheppard wasn't in his right mind. The enzyme was affecting him. Making him behave...oddly."

"Back on the planet too?"

She nodded, eyed her screen, trying not to smirk. "Yes."

"I'm worried, Moira." He touched her hand, bringing her attention back to him.

"Why? Carson said the colonel is one hundred percent free of the enzyme now. And we are studying it here under the most stringent–"

"No, no, I'm worried about you," he clarified. Hazel eyes sincere.

"Me?" Dread. "Why?"

He sighed, shrugged. "The way the colonel was acting. On M1K436. I don't think he likes you, Moira, and I can't understand why."

"Oh." She hid her smile, stared at the data screen.

"Oh? Did something happen between you two?"

Moira silently cursed as her fingers slipped on the keyboard, creating a stream of incomprehensible letters. She deleted it, shrugged. "No. I mean, we argued. I mean, he is not very patient with scientists," she tried to divert.

"True, but one minute he's acceding to your request to visit M1K436 and the next he's letting you wander around getting samples all alone without any protection. And bites off my head for even suggesting I should keep an eye on you."

"The enzyme, Evan," she repeated. "It clouded his mind, that is all," she assured. "He wasnt' thinking clearly. And the whole business with Ford...you know. There's a lot of history there. A lot of conflict."

"Yes. I suppose," Evan relented, not entirely convinced.. Rubbed his chin. "Still...what the hell was Pleistocene Park about?"

She sighed. "I know. He doesn't know his prehistoric epochs very well, does he?" They laughed.

************************************************************************

"Strawberries?"

John smiled, but then frowned. The voice wasn't female. Wasn't Moira. Wasn't even Carson mocking him. He opened his eyes, sat up. Saw Rodney's quizzical look. "What?"

"Strawberries?" Rodney repeated. "That was the last thing you said before you lost your comm unit, and your mind evidently. What happened to you?"

John shrugged. "The enzyme. I need you to take a look at my ship. The drive pods are functional but only barely. The equilibrium is off and the shielding–"

"Yes, yes, I already fixed that," Rodney waved away the concern. "What was the–"

"What happened to your throat?" John asked, staring at the ring of bruises encircling the scientist's neck. "Did you piss off Zelenka again?"

"What? No! I...I had a, a slight altercation..." Rodney mumbled, looking at the floor.

"He fell for a Wraith worshiper and she didn't like his attentions," joked Ronon , joining them.

He eyed his friend. "What happened to you? Run into a wall, or piss off Weir?"

John smiled, but grew somber. "Ford. So...a Wraith worshiper? Here?"

"Inadvertently rescued by Lorne. And in my defense she was hot. I mean really hot...petite and blond and all curves."

"What is it with you and hot Wraith women?" John quipped. Ronon laughed heartily, nearly doubling over with mirth.

Rodney fumed. "She was not a Wraith! And that other one didn't even look like a Wraith but a really hot...oh, never mind!" he exclaimed as John joined in the laughter.

"So...Wraith worshiper?" John asked.

Ronon shrugged. "She was also a runner."

"Like you?"

"Nothing like me," he said tersely. "When Beckett removed the tracking device she went wild. She deliberately brought the Wraith to planets and helped them cull the populations."

"Where is she now?" John has sobered in light of Ronon's gravity and words.

"Dead." Carson joined them, clearly unhappy. "Ronon had to shoot her. But he did not have to kill her," he chastised, glancing at the larger man.

"I did what I had to do, doc. Besides, you got all of the samples you could possible need, didn't you?" He turned to John who had noticed the slight tension between the two men. "There was no other way. She was a clear threat to the city, to everyone in the galaxy. An enemy. Rest up."

John watched him leave, turned to Carson. "Samples?"

"That's it? You're not going to say anything else? I'm sure Elizabeth would–"

"I'm sure Elizabeth will, but if Ronon believed she was a clear threat to this city then I condone his actions. Samples?" he repeated.

Carson sighed. "Oh, aye. She had the same protein as Ronon. The same naturally produced protein that prevents the Wraith from feeding. That effectively blocks the enzyme. The enzyme that apparently occurs in this moss, these flowers. I'll have to consult with Moira on this. The progression of the possibilities is fascinating."

"Sounds it," John remarked with a sigh.

*************************************************************************

John stood staring at the closed door. He ran a hand through his hair. Licked his lips. Glanced up and down the deserted hallway. Smirked at his sudden nervousness, uncertainty, when things had been so very certain on M1K436. Not to mention the tool room. He knocked briskly on the door, knuckles loud.

Moira was startled by the sudden noise. She stared at the door, hunched on her bed amid a mess of papers, data pads, pens. She willed the intruder to go away, frowning. She set the lap top on the bed, moving it off her lap, waiting.

"Moira?" John asked to the door. He listened, heard the sounds of rustling. Hoping it was clothing. Had an image of her opening the door in nothing but a sheer black negligee that had a plunging neckline and was so short it barely covered her rear. "Moira," he repeated, "I know it is rather late but I–"

Moira stared, hearing John's voice. Her pulse raced, heart leapt to her throat. Vivid memories swarmed to her mind but she pushed them all back, shoved them all down. She stood, moved to the door. Opened it. Fully clothed she eyed him. "John? What are you–"

"Pink." He held out a glass full of pink lemonade. "Lots of ice," he added, gaze wandering over her ponytail, the clean lavender shirt, the khaki pants.

She smiled, took the glass and gestured for him to enter. She closed the door, sipped the drink as she perused his clean black zippered shirt, gray pants. Caught a scent of either aftershave or cologne as he had passed her. He was clean-shaven, hair combed but still disordered. "Thank you. It's about time, colonel," she chided, causing him to smile. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

He turned to her. "Yes." Held her gaze a long moment, then continued. "Carson said I was fine. I can't sleep in those medical cots," he complained, turning to take in the room. The messy bed, strewn with books, papers, a blinking lap top. The rows of books on shelves. A plush tiny mammoth. A collection of quartz geodes. A Darth Vader figure made him smile.

"I take it you had your beer?" she asked, setting the now half-empty glass on a table.

"Several. What are you doing?" He eyed the messy bed again. Noticed it was bigger than his. Wider. Possibly even longer.

"Working on a theory. Look at this, John," she invited, gestured as she sat on the bed. She placed the lap top on her thighs. "You remember the flowers?"

Instead of taking the proffered chair he shoved papers aside, sat next to her on the bed. So close his thigh touched hers. "Yes. I do remember, Moira. In fact I remember every little detail."

She cut off his warm tone, teasing words. "Look at this, John. Look at these sequences. The flowers had the most potent form of the enzyme. More so than the moss itself. Think about it. What preys on flowers? Insects. Iratus bugs at their most primitive evolutionary level. Fueled by the enzyme's increasingly addictive potency the adrenal glands go wild. The bugs get bigger. Develop a greater appetite. Somehow migrate to other planets. Planets with animal life. Even hominids. Humans. The bugs evolve yet again, forced to feed on a new nectar, producing their own enzyme to facilitate the–"

"Wraith," John finally interrupted. He closed the lap top, put is aside and looked at her. "It all leads eventually to the Wraith. And whatever lived on M1K436 and ate the plants would accelerate the same hormonal triggers. Ultimately killing each other in the process. Only the plants thrived."

"Yes," she agreed. "That's why there was hardly any life there. It had destroyed itself. All caused by a simple plant." She appeared depressed.

"Not so simple. But what about those creatures?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I couldn't really observe them closely. They don't fit the theory."

"Maybe they do," he mused, frowned. He flexed his hand, eyed the raw knuckles.

"What do you mean?"

He met her gaze. "Perhaps those creatures are the only inhabitants left on that planet. They were semi-sentient, right?"

She nodded. "It stopped me from going over the edge when you and Ford fell..." She shook the memory aside, touched his sore hand.

"Bi-pedal?"

"Yes." Realization shone in her brown eyes. Horror.

He nodded. "I think they were once human. Or semi-human, but I'm no zoologist," he remarked wryly. "The ones who survived the bugs, but not the plants. The ones who survived each other, but not the toxic affects of the enzyme."

"Oh my God...." she whispered. Her hand closed over his. "John...if you...if you..."

He took her hand, held it to his stomach. "I could feel it, in here. Once those incredible energy surges, that irrational fury, the overwhelming...desire," he amended, although it had been closer to lust, "had subsided, I could feel it eating away at me. Literally changing me, Moira. From the inside out. You truly did save my life. In the most pleasant way possible. Well, not the most pleasant by far, but still..."

"John, this is serious!" she scolded. "What if–"

"I know. Very serious," he agreed, leaning close. Closer. Gazing warmly into her eyes, capturing her complete attention. He brushed his lips against hers, tasting lemonade. "Say those words to me again, Moira," he intoned against her ear. "Say real, unclothed sex. Say you want me. Say you want me inside you," he whispered against her skin, lips trailing down her throat. His hand ran up her thigh, between her thighs.

Moira lost her breath, her reactions so vivid she flushed. "John, John, you–"

"I can't think of anything else, Moira," he wooed, kissing her again. Deeper this time, his mouth moving over hers, with hers. He shoved papers, books aside, moved her onto her back. Followed. "Carson said you should stay on your back," he reminded.

She laughed, pulling him closer, on top of her. "True. And now it is just me. Just you. No enzymes. No simulations." She kissed him, catching his mouth with hers, savoring his full lips, his generous motions. "All I wanted was a drink, John," she teased, unzipping his shirt. Her fingers played along the chest hairs peeking out. She pushed him back suddenly, sat up as he did. She fingered his shirt, brown eyes sparkling. Slid her fingers under it, lifted it up, off him. Obligingly he raised his arms, lowered them as she tossed the shirt aside, gaze wandering over his lean chest, waist. She gently touched the bruises. "John–"

"I'm fine," he assured, smiled. "And I have to know, Moira. I have to know."

"Know what, John?" she asked, thrown by his serious voice. Although his brilliant green eyes were intense, sparkling.

"I have to know if this lavender lace theme continues," he said playfully. "If the bra matches those lovely, lovely panties."

She smiled, considered. She freed her hair from the ponytail, set it swirling around her. She lifted her shirt slowly, slowly under his avid gaze. Removed it to reveal the matching bra. She tilted her head, licked her lips. "Satisfied?" she teased.

John smiled. He met her gaze. "Not yet. Not even close, Moira O'Meara," he argued, moving her onto her back again with a deep, deep kiss.

**************************************************************************

Moira arched her back, unable, unwilling to stop as John once more brought her to the brink, the brink, the edge and over into a blissful release. Again she drowned in physical pleasure, climaxing repeatedly as he thrust deeper, deeper. Faster, faster. Nearly rocking the bed as he reached his own release and groaned in replete satisfaction. She fell back against the mattress, breathing deeply, entangled as he sprawled heavily across her, spent.

John breathed deeply, smiled smugly. Felt the sweat dripping down his bare back. Felt her moist, soft body beneath his, their hot skin pressing, pressing. He raised his head from her breasts to view her flushed face, tousled hair. Rosy, slightly swollen lips. "Moira, did I take too long that time?" he lazily teased, kissing her lips, her throat. "What was that? Three? Four? I've lost count," he boasted.

"You wish," she chided, fingers stroking his disordered hair, his bruised jaw. "I...John...you..." Words failed her. She had never been with a man like this, so in control, so intent, so able to bring her to the brink and just hold her there. Several times before the sudden rush into repeated orgasms. Only to do it again. And again. She worried if it was a remnant of the enzyme, fueling his libido to incredible heights.

"Rendered speechless?" he teased proudly. "About time." He laughed as she smacked his arm. He caught her hand, kissed her fingers, ran his tongue up her wrist, tasting skin, sweat. He released her, rolled onto his back. Sighed happily. He touched his sore jaw.

"Sorry I had to hit you," she said, noticing his motion. She rolled onto him, gently kissed his jaw, his lips, his throat. "John..." She hesitated, plunged ahead. "Are you always like this?"

He grinned, meeting her gaze. Her ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Are you?"

"I'm serious."

"So am I." His gaze wandered as her body pressed against his, shifting, moving, the friction of skin against skin. "Or are you just this way with me?" He rolled them. She was beneath him again. Welcoming. He moved against her.

"John?" she asked, startled, as his body began to react to hers. She gasped, squirming but he caught her hands, pressed them back against the bed, as his body taunted, teased hers. "John," she tried to form coherent words, sentences as he entered her easily, slowly, began a slow but steady rhythm. "Are you...do you...always have this...this much stamina?"

He kissed her. "Are you always lush as a waterfall?" he rejoined, running his tongue down to her breasts until she audibly whimpered with pleasure. He could feel her muscles tightening around him. Friction building, building. Holding back was an effort. Especially as he could tell it had been a while since she had enjoyed such attentions.

"Are you...always...like this...so much...so much...oh John, John, John!" Her question escalated into a crescendo of his name as they crested the pleasure once more, sped into frantic, exquisite fulfillment. He softly swore, groaning in relief, releasing her hands as he released all the pent-up frustration, seduction, lust, desire, need. He eased himself on top of her, rested, then rolled onto his back again. Wiped his brow.

"Moira, what did you expect? We've been dancing around this for nearly two days now. Two days of almost sex and repeated arousal. If we didn't have actual sex I thought I was going to explode. I know you felt the same way. You're a biologist, aren't you? You should understand urges. Needs. I've had a hard-on for nearly two days. Can you imagine how I had to explain that to Carson?"

"John!" She breathed deeply, shifting her body. Trickles of sweat teased her skin. The room felt warm, close. Echoes of pleasure rippled along her body. "I...I only asked in case, in case it was the enzyme," she explained, trying to catch her breath. "As you said, I am a biologist. Well, a zoologist, actually. So I know–"

She started as he moved over her again. He kissed her, lazily caressed a breast. "No. This is me. All me. One hundred percent John Sheppard. I trust this is one hundred percent Moira O'Meara?"

She smiled. "Yes."

He kissed her again, rolled onto his side, pulling her into his arms. "All right, then, doctor. No more analysis. If you require further evidence give me five minutes. Maybe ten." She laughed. He grinned. He closed his eyes. Exhausted but satisfied. "Get some sleep. It's almost dawn."

She smiled, snuggling against him. "I know," she purred, kissing him slowly. "Why do you think I was so concerned?"

He smiled, remained silent as sleep blissfully took him.

*************************************************************************

The cafeteria was a noisy, crowded maze of people, tables, food. Moira made her way to an open table, set her tray down. Sat. She had awoken alone, tangled in sheets and a few errant papers. She had quickly showered, dressed, now ate hungrily. Mind caught in the passionate memories of last night. Lingering over details.

"They're looking for you in the lab," Evan stated, joining her. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, suddenly uncomfortable. "Starving," she said round a bite of pancake. "I overslept," she explained. Wished the blush on her face would go away.

"After the past two days no one will blame you. Any penetrating discoveries on M1K436 besides those plants?"

Moira almost choked on her orange juice. Recovered. Met his inquiring gaze. "Yes... I mean no! I mean yes...besides Ford, of course. Some curious cave creatures. I still have theories to work up and then I..." Her gaze swept past as John approached, carrying a tray loaded with food.

He paused, met her gaze. She stared back.

John looked at Evan. "Doctor O'Meara. Major."

"Sir," Evan greeted.

"Colonel Sheppard," Moira replied, just as neutrally as he had.

"Oh, major, sorry about the jaw," John added as an afterthought, barely glancing at Moira, barely acknowledging her.

"It's all right, sir. Moira said you were under the influence of the enzyme."

"Did she now?" he asked, glance skipping across her. "Yes. I was certainly under some influence," he agreed. He kept walking, joined another table.

Moira resisted the urge to turn, look after him. She wondered if last night wasn't just some amazing erotic dream, a fantasy. When she shifted she felt all too keenly it had been very real.

She wondered at his demeanor. Recalled the stories she had heard about him. The easy-going ladies' man. Moving like a bee from flower to flower. Frowned.

"Moira? Did you hear me?" Evan asked, staring at her introspective face.

"What?" She set down the half-eaten strawberry she hadn't even been aware of nibbling. "I'm sorry, Evan. I was miles away."

He smiled. "No doubt working on your theory," he assumed. "At least Colonel Sheppard seems back to being himself. He was civil, at least."

"Yes, at the very least." She stood. "In fact I should get down to the lab." She returned her tray, no longer hungry. Hastened out of the cafeteria.

John smiled. He had been watching Moira. Watching her flustered, distressed reaction. Her puzzlement over his demeanor. Her nibbling of the strawberry that brought the evening's erotic fulfillment rushing to his mind. Her passion matching his, motion for motion, moan for moan.

He idly considered what she would do. What she wouldn't do. What he could persuade her to do. What she might want him to do.

"Sheppard? Hello?" Rodney waved his hand in front of his friend's face, irritated.

"Sorry, Rodney," John apologized, watching Moira depart. Her fast stride causing her ponytail to swing, her hips to sway. Her rear snug in the pants, shapely as he recalled the feel of it. He looked at Rodney. "You were saying?"

Rodney huffed. "I was saying the tracking device was more sophisticated than Ronon's. It reacted to the ATA gene, like Teyla's necklace. The tiny transmission could run on indefinitely–"

"Like you?" John quipped.

"Ha, ha."

"Get to the point," John said. Impatient.

"Why? You have somewhere you need to be?" Rodney asked. "Some pressing matter of military hardware or some new penetrating weapon you want to test?"

"Yes." John stood, smiled. "That's it exactly, Rodney. Excuse me."

***********************************************************************

Moira sat back from the microscope. "This one, too," she said. "The stamen is even more extended. Fully extended with nectar. Awash with the enzyme. Is that how it is distributed plant to plant?"

"More than likely," Matthew Parrish confirmed. "And how the plant reproduces. Being a moss it would thrive in dark, damp places. But the flowers need sunlight to produce the nectar, the enzyme. This is a real enigma," he pondered. "Normally the insects would carry pollen from flower to flower, but this, this..."

"Engorged until release by insect or animal ingestion," she considered. A cough or a choked back laugh interrupted her.

"Plant sex?"

Moira stiffened at John's voice as he strolled into the lab. "What else do you scientists discuss in biology, apart from that?" he asked, merriment in his tone. He eyed Moira's tense posture.

"This plant is quite remarkable, colonel. Despite its adverse side affects," Matthew hastily noted. "It's as if two separate species joined together."

"Hm...two joining together, into one perfectly conjoined organism," John noted, smiling. He could only imagine Moira's expression. He strolled towards her, stood behind her. "May I see, Doctor O'Meara?"

She sat back from the microscope, unable to meet his gaze. Puzzled by his not so innocent yet completely innocuous words. "Of course, Colonel Sheppard," she agreed coldly. Felt an hot anger towards him.

Instead of stepping next to her he leaned over her shoulder, viewed the slide. His cheek grazed hers. He viewed the slide. "And what is this?"

She frowned, hearing the merriment in his voice. Feeling the slight stubble scratch her skin. Smelling the scent of cologne or aftershave. She explained flatly, "The flower. The extended stamen, straining to release its load of nectar. Engorged with the necessity of release. Growing hard, harder and sticky from the inability to find a receiving, hungry mouth to suck the nectar from it, to suck it dry. See?" she asked innocently.

John could not suppress a soft groan, as his body reacted to her words. He leaned back from her. "Remind me not to leave my earpiece on," he chided. "You see, I do know how to be discreet." He straightened, adopted a serious expression as he turned. "Doctor Parrish, do you hold with Doctor O'Meara's theory on the genesis of the Iratus bug?"

"It...it sounds reasonable to me, colonel," Matthew stammered, unused to the sudden attention. "But then again, I am no zoologist."

"How true," John agreed, "but as I recall the plant may also hold some analgesic properties, not to mention its potential as a weapon against the Wraith. Were you aware of Doctor Beckett's findings?"

"No, Colonel Sheppard, I–"

"I think you had better check with him before you proceed to dismiss this plant as an aberration or a deadly intoxicant," John insisted, walking towards the botanist. In effect herding him out of the lab.

"Of course, of course, you are right, colonel."

John smiled, turned to find Moira staring at him. Rolling her eyes. "What?"

"What? What? Do you always swagger into someone's lab only to chase them out of it?"she demanded as he strode towards her. "Do you always engage in erotic wordplay then give the cold shoulder as if nothing had ever happened between–"

He pulled her to her feet off the stool, cutting off her rising indignation with a lengthy kiss. "That mouth of yours, Moira, can make a man want to extend his own stamen to seek that sweet, sweet nectar of yours."

"John!" she scolded, laughed. Pushing him. "What are you doing? In the cafeteria–"

"I told you, I was being discreet," he explained, pulling her back to him. "There's no need to broadcast our relationship, is there? I prefer keeping my private life private. Agreed?"

She considered. "All right. The last thing we need is a round of cafeteria gossip," she acquiesced, still doubtful.

"Exactly." He kissed her again. "I want you. All to myself. Every word, every look, every motion," he intoned quietly. "Everything between us is only between us." He kissed her again. "Are you busy now?"

She pulled out of his arms. "I...yes, no, yes, but lunch...but you just said...damn it, John, what do you want from me?"

He smiled, brushed a strand of hair from her angry face. "This." He kissed her. Released her, stepping back as scientists filled the room. "And this," he added, suddenly no longer the lover but the colonel. "Moira, would you join for me lunch? You can tell me about your theories concerning the enzyme." He waited while she debated. Wondered if she had misunderstood, or had understood but rejected his suggestions. His need.

She decided, thoughts still conflicted, but not her emotions. "That would be nice, colonel," she agreed, lifting her lap top from the desk. She walked with him towards the doorway. Deciding again. "I will try not to be too technical, or too complicated so you can understand. Wouldn't want to confuse that pretty head of yours."

He smiled, relieved. Relaxed. "Yes, we wouldn't want that, so no scientific rambling or boring exposition," he warned with a smile. "And call me John." He winked at her. "Especially if you are going to ramble on as usual."

She shook her head. "Very nice. All right...John," she tested, as if unused to the name. "Let's talk about the enzyme's evolution from plants to Wraith."


End file.
